


The King Welcomes You to Avatar Country

by GirlWithTheGhostTattoo



Category: Ancient Egyptian Religion, Avatar (Sweden Band)
Genre: Bath Sex, Conversations with the divine, F/M, First Time, Getting Lost, Look I just really love Tim okay, Magic, Maps are Hard, Resurrection, Sad Backstory, Sexual Tension, Tags are Harder, They fuck at the end and thats really why this whole thing exists, Vaginal Sex, Violence, catching feels, divine intervention, fuck why are these so hard to write, not that divine, these are all out of order
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-02-08 10:26:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21474481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GirlWithTheGhostTattoo/pseuds/GirlWithTheGhostTattoo
Summary: An accidental adventure into Avatar Country, brushes with death, forced reckonings, appeals to the divine.Tim.🙄
Relationships: Tim Öhrström/Original Character(s)
Comments: 68
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a total WIP. And in fact, this chapter is all that exists so far. I have a rough idea of where its going, but that always changes a dozen times.  
So I guess we're experiencing this in real time together. 
> 
> Thrilling.

"Face it Mer, we're fucking lost."

"We are _not _lost!" I countered, turning around in a circle to look at our surroundings again, "just...just take in the nature or something for a couple minutes, will you?" I groaned, rubbing a hand over my forehead, trying to stay calm as I glanced at the thick forest on all sides, which proved to be pointless, as all the trees looked exactly the same. 

As it turned out, we _were _completely lost. 

Up in the woods in the middle of the fucking nowhere mountains to be more specific.

I wasn't even sure what country we were in anymore, though I'd been pretending like we were still following the map for about three days now. 

Surely we had to be there soon. 

All the secret, sacred texts Kiya told me about said that a traveler wouldn't know until they were there - Her sacred site. The place where the secret rituals had taken place, where devotees pledged themselves and their unending, limitless devotion to the Winged Lady of Truth for centuries, millennia even. 

But somehow I felt like we were going in the wrong direction no matter what way I turned us.

It wasn't all that bad as far as scenery went. But it was starting to get tiresome, spending all day walking and sleeping fitfully on the hard ground at night, only to wake up to the same exact thing the next day.

"Lets keep going for another hour or so, then we'll park it and camp, okay?" I asked more calmly, turning and offering Kiya both my hands, after stuffing the useless map in my back pocket, "I'm sorry I said that, it was rude and dismissive."

She sniffed a little, but took my offered hands, "I just wish you would tell me we're lost. We've been going in circles for three days."

I froze and one of my eyes started to twitch as we stared at each other. 

"Why didn't you say anything?!" I finally yelled, throwing my hands up in the air.

"Because," she yelled back, "you were obviously trying to preserve some sense of direction or act like you have a plan for my sake!"

I groaned and ground the heels of both hands into my eyes as she continued.

"Plus, its not like I would have any better idea of where we're going."

"Fucking hell, I'm tired of wandering in these stupid fucking woods for fucking days on end!" I shouted at the sky, startling a flock of birds out of one of the trees. 

And as I looked up, I noticed the clouds.

"Oh, fuck me, _anything else!?!_" I cried, staring upwards at the dark thunderheads that had rolled in without my notice as I worried about where we were going. Kiya glanced up too, only to receive a big fat raindrop in the middle of her forehead. 

"Oof. Well at least we'll have fresh water," she wiped at the moisture and licked it off the back of her hand as the drops started to fall with a little more gusto. 

"Shit, come on, lets try to find some place to at least stay dry."

We headed deeper into the forest as dusk gathered early under the storm clouds and rain started to fall in earnest, big heavy drops that ricocheted like bullets off of rocks and made the trees seem to chatter with the sound as we scuttled up a rock and huddled together under the lowest branches of some species of giant needled tree. 

"This was a shit idea, we should never have come out here," I sighed, the creeping exhaustion starting to give way to hopelessness as I rubbed both hands over my face again and scratched my fingers back over my scalp.

"No it wasn't," Kiya immediately chastised, "She speaks to you, She's calling to you, and I know you'll find the site. I know She'll guide you."

"Christ, Kiya, She's not real. She's a myth!"

We'd had this conversation almost verbatim a hundred times at least, but I never changed her mind. Kiya came from a huge family that still worshiped the old gods; they sent her stateside to get an expensive education, but she'd never managed to convince me. 

"You're wrong, Mer. Someday you'll see."

Thunder crashed overhead, putting an abrupt end to our conversation as we ate a cold dinner from our packs and didn't push to fill the empty space with speech. It was one of the things that I'd always loved about Kiya, from the day we met, silence around her wasn't awkward or heavy, it was just silence. 

The rain showed no sign of relenting as the darkness settled, so it was going to be a fireless night.

"I'll sit up first watch, come here," I offered, leaning back against the trunk of the tree offering us shelter and holding out my arms to her as I bundled a blanket in my lap after wrapping my own around my shoulders, "you should get some sleep for a little bit."

"Mmm, wake me up in a couple hours, okay?" she yawned deeply, unable to even get all the words out, "I don't want you to sit up all night."

"Sure thing," I lied, brushing my hand over her fair hair and feeling her instantly fall asleep. 

Her mother had told me once during a summer when I went home with her, that from the moment Kiya was born and cleaned off, she'd been shockingly, almost violently blonde. It wasn't unheard of amongst Egyptian peoples who ancestrally belonged to the land, but it definitely wasn't common. 

She'd known, she said, from that very day that her daughter had been destined for more, for greater ambitions, a plan laid out by the _neteru _that surpassed the mundane life lived by herself and her mother before her, and her mother before them, going back generations. 

She'd been called Kiya, after one of the wives of the pharaoh Akhenaten, and she was my polar opposite, but she was the best friend I'd ever had. 

I smiled softly and shook my head down at her, already passed out cold. She never complained about anything, believing with her entire being that her fate had been orchestrated amongst the stars of Nut, that the primordial water of Nun had formed the path of her life, just as they had formed the very earth we now rested on. 

Whatever came her way was divined by the gods, and they would hardly bring her to an obstacle without providing the tools to conquer it. 

As the night sounds around us were muted by the continuous storm, I silently hoped she was right, and my fingers passed over her hair again and I yawned and stared into the darkness. 

It was unfair really, the slightness of the gesture that changed the paths of our lives forever...just the tiniest movement of one finger, barely even a twitch, but enough of a signal for both of us to be seized.

I hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the combination of the heavy rain and my own thoughts had lulled me into a deep trance, and my eyes closed without my permission, remaining so until a rough, strong pair of hands tore my sleeping companion away with a shriek and another grabbed me too. 

The only person I could see in the split second before I was hooded was tall, with a peculiar haircut, leaving both sides of his head shaved and the hair on top long, but pulled back away from his face in a long sectioned ponytail that draped over one shoulder.

"Who are you!" I snarled, "let us go!"

The one holding both arms behind my back didn't let me go once the hood was secured over my head and they didn't bother to answer me, preferring to speak lowly to each other in a different language now that I'd given away English as my native tongue. 

"Hey! Fuckface!" I yelled again when they continued to ignore me, "I said let us go!"

A hand clamped around my throat hard. It wasn't a threat or a warning, it was for real, and the pressure behind it showed no sign of relenting as I struggled, desperately trying to stay calm, but I didn't know how many of them there were, and my wrists were bound now, to boot. 

"No. Release her."

The hand disappeared and I gasped for air and sputtered a cough as my lungs finally expanded. 

"Take them to the van," the same voice said, and I was prodded hard in the back until my feet started to move. 

"Kiya!" I called hoarsely, renewing my struggles to escape, trying to wriggle my hands out of the tight rope binding that I soon realized was a zip tie I was never going to get out of. 

"I'm right next to you, Mer, shh shh," she said, her voice far calmer than mine, and I immediately turned for her, taking a step towards her sounds.

"Ah ah ah," we were yanked apart, "shut up and walk."

It was a different voice, not the tall one this time, coming from whoever was attached to the hand that was roughly gripping my upper arm to keep me from running away. 

"Its okay Mer," she said, yelping as she was struck.

"You keep your fucking hands off her, asshole!" I yelled, trying in vain to throw my head back into my captor's face so he'd let go. 

"I said," he growled into my ear, throwing his knee into the back of mine so I buckled to the ground, "shut the fuck up," he yanked me so hard to my feet my shoulder felt like it was going to be torn from its socket, "and walk." 

He all but kicked me forward. 

"You're gonna fucking regret this, whoever you are."

We walked and walked, Kiya and I literally blindly stumbling our way through a forest that seemed impossible to navigate in daylight, though these men seemed to have no problems even in the dead of night as the rain continued to pour from the sky.

"Kiya?" I called for her every few minutes, just to make sure we hadn't been separated.

"I'm here, Mer," she said. 

"We're gonna be okay," I tried not to cry as the adrenaline started to fade from my system and my legs began to shake, "I'm gonna get you out of here."

"Shut her up, Tim," someone called, and it was the last thing I heard as something heavy crashed over the side of my head and I was unconscious before I hit the ground.

Kiya started to hyperventilate as the unmistakable sound of collapsing dead weight broke the monotonous crunch of dead pine needles and the squelch of boots treading through mud. Her head whipped from side to side, but nothing was visible through the thick burlap hood. 

But surely there had to be some kind of light, there was no way they were navigating these woods in the dark...

"Jesus Johannes, I was just going to gag her..."

"Good plan, Timmy. Then she'd get to see your pretty face before we knocked her out."

"Fuck you, you can carry her then."

"Wh-where are we going," Kiya gasped, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head, trying to stop the ringing in her ears as she started to wobble on her feet too. 

"Henrik don't let her...fall..."

"Too late."

We were both out cold, dead to the world, not that they even bothered to check if we were fine beyond making sure we were breathing.

I didn't come to until whatever van we were in hit a pothole that made everything not buckled down momentarily catch air, including both me and Kiya. Our bodies crashed together and I landed painfully hard on my shoulder, making me groan with the impact and try to curl up as I rolled away, trying to find a wall or something solid to give myself some bearings.

"Ooh, that tickled, do it again," someone cackled, and was immediately greeted by at least three voices in unison.

"_Shut the fuck up Johannes_."

So there had to be at least four. 

Fingertips found mine and I immediately froze for a moment until they gently squeezed, telling me who it was, and I reached back and laced our hands together, holding on for dear life and whatever else was coming our way as my tears fell silently and soaked the rough cloth covering my head.

I could taste the blood that had run down the side of my face, and winced at the pain as I lifted my head from the floor when we finally stopped moving. The sound of doors opening and closing, then a blast of fresh air as what I assumed were the double doors at the back of a twelve passenger van opened, and we were roughly dragged to our feet and hauled up a set of stairs, tripping and cursing as we went. 

"Don't make me have him bash you over the head again, you idiot girl, you're lucky you survived it once," the voice the tall one had named as Tim growled into my ear as he roughly yanked me along.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Tim," I growled back, and I smirked under my hood as I sensed him taking pause. 

"I'm afraid you won't live long enough to get a chance, _Mer_," he countered, and my reaction was to stumble over my own shoelace. 

I didn't get back to my feet, rather I was kept down on my knees, my head bent towards the floor by a hand grasping the back of my neck like I was being scruffed. 

"Sire, these two were found hiding in the woods in the interior."

I blinked hard as the hood suddenly disappeared and I was under the soft glow of inside lighting, the pounding in my head taking a turn for the worse as the black spots danced at the sides of my vision. 

"K-Kiya," I mouthed, swallowing hard against the wave of nausea that rolled through my insides, threatening to make me sick as I tried to take one deep breath after another. 

I was at that critical moment where I could look up and see their faces. 

The only thing I didn't know was whether they would kill me for it or not. Best not take any chances.

"The interior? How did they get so far?" the voice sounded surprised and displeased.

"Apologies, sir, but I do not know."

"Your men are getting lazy, John, get rid of them."

"Of course, sir," he accepted the judgment without offering a word in their defense. 

John. The tall one with the ponytail and the shaved head. Got it.

"So," he addressed us in a booming voice that made me shiver, but I kept staring hard at the floor, watching the blood drops fall against the polished stone floor in perfect circles with jagged edges as they dripped from my nose. I wiggled it once and didn't feet pain- not broken, just a nosebleed then. 

Boots stopped at the very corner of my vision and I glanced over as he lifted Kiya's chin in one hand, forcing her to look up at him before he crossed to me and did the same. 

He wasn't as tall as John, but his hair was blonde, woven into tight dreadlocks. The crown on his head signified him for who he was, and I wracked my brain, trying to remember a European king that was as young as him. 

Surely he had to have been in a book or magazine or news article or _something _I had read. CNN? Politico? The Times?

"What the fuck," I finally whispered as I found I couldn't place him at all, "where the fuck are we?"

"Ah, so she does speak," he chuckled, turning away from me and stalking back towards his throne, sitting sideways and laying one muscular leg over the arm as he reclined casually.

Kiya and I exchanged a quick, troubled glance. 

"I'd more call it an annoying chatter," someone said behind me, drawing a huffed laugh from another.

"Who are you," he addressed both of us but we remained silent, recognizing that the danger we were in was nothing to be smoothed over by explaining ourselves now. 

Fingers knotted into my hair and I yelped as they pulled sharply, yanking my head upright until I was forced to look up.

"I understand that Americans are stupid and brash, but try to remember that you're addressing a king," he hissed in my ear, and I turned my head just enough to look at him with searing hatred written across my features, burning his image into my brain so I would always be able to find him. 

"You're not in a position to be tough, brat," Tim scowled, reading my expression and forcing my head back towards the king, "and I'll drop you in a single second if you try."

"You wouldn't even be able to fucking touch me if I wasn't cuffed like a criminal, you creep," I snarled, starting to feel twinges of something almost like insanity creep in to my tone.

After all, was this situation _not _fucking insane?

"Well, what exactly do you classify trespassing as, Miss--..."

I didn't respond to the king. On one hand he had a point, but on the other, its not like we did it on fucking purpose. 

"Come, gentlemen, we're being uncivil," he suddenly chastised his circle, furrowing his brows at them and making a 'rise' motion with his hands towards us. 

My knees were bruised and stiff from falling so many times, and I shoved Tim roughly with my shoulder when he leaned down to help me.

"Put your hands on me again," I challenged him and despite himself he took a step back at the fire burning in my gaze. I turned to look at the rest of them as I got to my feet and stopped suddenly when I saw him.

Christ he had to be almost six and a half feet tall. Built like a bean pole, but still, he would be the hardest to outrun, and I made a mental note to take him out first if it came to it. 

"Help you with something?" he cocked an eyebrow and I realized I was staring, unabashedly sizing him up as he picked at something imaginary underneath one of his fingernails with the tip of a knife that looked longer than my forearm. 

The one with the ponytail was tall too, but not quite his size. John.

The others were slightly built and shorter, my new friend with the mustache and the other one at Kiya's side with dark curls pulled back at the nape of his neck, glancing at me with an unimpressed expression before looking back to his king. 

"Sir, please, we meant no trespass," Kiya offered, bowing slightly to the dreadlocked one, "Mer and I have been trying to find our way for several days now and got lost. We don't know where we are and will happily go home. We had no dishonest intentions."

"Mer," he said it slowly, repeating it like he needed to taste my name, and it thoroughly creeped me out when he looked over at me out of the side of his eye before turning his head, "I presume that is short for Meredith, yes?" 

I shot Kiya a wary glance as subtly as I could, willing her to keep her mouth shut as I turned back to the king.

"It is."

It wasn't. 

My given name was MerNeith, after the first female king. The first woman pharaoh. The mother of a king, but a king as well in her own right. She was largely stricken from the historical record after her death by those who didn't wish to rule in the shadow of the fairer sex.

Though fairer sex had never really been my thing. 

"Very well. Meredith, and Kiya, was it?" he looked back at her, and after a moment she sighed and nodded, looking down at the ground and keeping an eye on Curly who was staying at the back corner of her vision, ready should she cause any more grief.

"Ladies, I do regret the roughness of your treatment thus far," the king apologized, though his words had a distinctly hollow ring to them, "please accept my invitation to stay here, as my personal guests until you are fit to continue your journey...wherever you were on your way to..."

He turned to John and murmured something under his breath as the other bowed his head fractionally to receive his king's instruction. Kiya looked at me with a wide-eyed stare and the twitching of one of her eyes told me whatever he was saying wasn't fucking good. 

"Of course, my king."

My wrists were suddenly separated as Tim's knife sliced through the heavyduty plastic zip-tie like it was butter, and I pulled them around to my front, rubbing at my chaffed, raw wrists. 

"Gee thanks," I rolled my eyes, glancing down at the marks and blaming him for them, though I knew they'd mostly been of my own doing from pulling at my bindings so many times. 

"I swear to the gods, I will fucking gag you, bitch," he retorted.

"Tim. That is not how we treat guests," his king looked sternly at him and the other fell silent immediately in a way that told me he feared his king more than he respected him.

What kind of fucked up Machiavellian kingdom did we get lost in? 

"Kiya, Mer, you two are going to be housed in our guest wing," the king looked back and forth between us with interest, like he was trying to put his finger on some detail that was escaping him, his gaze lingering on me then Kiya.

"A word of advice. Sleep would be a more productive use of the remainder of your night than wandering. Do not make me regret my hospitality."

We both just stared until we were led away and I roughly shook off the tall one I realized had been the one they'd all been telling to shut up. Johannes.

John with the ponytail. Tim with the mustache and the bad attitude. Johannes with the stilts. I committed their names and faces to memory.

"Don't make me put a fucking leash on you and drag you," Johannes growled threateningly, getting right down in my face.

"I'm sure there's no need for that, right Mer?" Kiya looked halfway exasperated at me and the fight I was insisting on putting up as she rubbed at her own wrists and the curly-haired one sheathed his knife at his hip.

"I can walk on my own."

"Then lets hop to, green goddess, hmm?" he huffed, mocking the emerald color of my hair. 

"Hey fuck you, Big Bird."

"Why don't we all just shut the fuck up and move," John barked, roughly shoving us both until we stumbled forward a step, moving in a direction that I supposed was the guest wing, though I fully expected there to be bars on the windows from how we'd been treated thus far. 

"Oh, and ladies?"

We turned, looking over our shoulders at the king as was once again seated on his throne, tracing his lips with one finger in a gesture that shouldn't have been as menacing as it felt.

"Welcome to Avatar Country."


	2. Chapter 2

As it turned out, there _weren't _bars on the windows. There were hardly windows at all, rather wall to wall french doors that opened onto a massive balcony that looked like it could have easily held a hundred people, letting them all gaze out at the sea like they were on the cover of a fucking gushy romance novel. 

A marble bathroom built for eight people featured a deep tub sunk into the floor that looked more like a swimming pool than a jacuzzi, and a shower that I was sure could easily fit me, Kiya, and all four of our new friends who were shoving us along, ignoring the fact that we were adults who had been walking on our own for several decades now. 

Where the fuck were we.

John turned me by the shoulders roughly to face him, sinking his fingertips in hard enough to bruise until he pointed one finger in my face, almost close enough to touch my nose.

"Do not wander."

Got it. A single warning against wandering could have been for my own good. Getting lost or being accidentally murdered by a guard who mistook me for an intruder. 

But twice? 

He'd basically just invited me. 

"You're dining with the King in the morning," he stated, like we didn't have a choice. 

It was fine, I didn't even plan on being here in the morning. As soon as the door closed, we were going to be swiftly getting the _fuck _out of this hellhole. 

"Uhm hello," I called when the all turned to leave and Johannes looked at me with that same irritated expression he'd been wearing all night.

"Bags? Clothing? All the shit we had when you kidnapped us?"

Before I could utter another word, Tim was in front of me, his hand pulled back like he wanted to smack it across my face, and I waited for the split second change in direction that indicated it was moving towards me as his face contorted into a snarl. 

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

There. 

His hand only moved a fraction of an inch before he was flat on his back on the rug that covered the chilly stone floor and my foot was pressing down on his throat as he tried to catch the breath that was suddenly knocked from his lungs, his mouth opening and closing stupidly like a landed fish.

I'd never learned how to use a gun, and I was shit with knives, but I'd never lost a match hand-to-hand.

My training was a confusing mishmash of different techniques from different cultures, families, schools, and styles, all from separate people who thought the style I'd learned before them was inaccurate. 

Their teachings and the events of my early life left me a jaded, hard-to-like, mostly silent asshole of a human, but they perfectly prepared me for situations like this. 

Well almost. 

"Do you feel better now that that's out of your system?" Johannes chuckled as the point of his knife pricked my skin enough to draw blood, and I felt it slowly bead and drip down my neck as I turned my head to glance up at him with a sneer and he continued, "just keep pushing it, and I will paint this fucking room with you."

"Mer," Kiya called, and when I glanced up at her, the curly one had his knife positioned across her throat. He almost looked bored with the whole spectacle, waiting for me to make my move.

I shouted my frustration, knocking Johannes back with my elbow and not caring if I got my own throat cut in the process, which I did. It was shallow, but the blood dripped faster from the thin skin on the side of my neck where his blade had caught me.

Tim rolled and was on his feet in the next second, both he and Johannes crouched and waiting, ready for me. 

But they weren't ready. Not really.

My teachers had all been women. Nuns, ironically. 

Yep, those kinds of nuns. 

Habit-wearing, rosary-carrying _nuns._

In that moment, watching the hatred bloom across their faces like some kind of putrid flower, I remembered Sister Marjorie's words. Her voice had an annoying way of popping up either at the absolute best or worst time, there was no inbetween, true to the woman herself. 

She whispered to me that the combat style of a woman was different than the style of a man. 

Superior. 

They fought with dumb brute strength, relying on force.

We fought with intelligence, with cunning, a fox outmatching a bear. As long as I was quick, it didn't matter how big my opponent was.

I didn't know that I would necessarily classify Johannes as a bear, but it was going to be a big jump to get where I needed to be to take him down. 

Tim blocked my first strike, anticipating me now, but I swept my leg hard against the back of his knees and he hit the floor again.

Hell, this was going to be easy. These guys were just let loose in the kingdom to kidnap people without any kind of fucking training at all. 

Idiots. 

Johannes' knife clattered across the floor before he even knew it left his hand, and my right foot launched up off his left knee like it had been an offered step stool as my elbow crooked around his neck and the momentum of my body spinning around back down to the floor sent him whirling around before finally crashing to the ground with a sickening crunch. 

"That's fucking _enough_," John yelled, hurtling his own knife at me and narrowly missing, though it stopped me in my tracks as I panted and tried my best to set him on fire with my mind as we glared daggers at each other. 

Nothing happened and no one else made a sound except the two men on the ground who were groaning and getting to their feet, rubbing their heads and shoulders where the impact had been the hardest. 

"Henrik, get their shit. I'm done with this tonight," John snapped before storming off, leaving the door open behind him as Tim and Johannes followed him out, the former glaring at me over his shoulder.

Henrik. The pretty one with the curls.

Fatal mistake.

Names and faces. Faces and names. 

I'd had so much practice with this, it felt like second nature. 

Spending years hunting for someone whose name and face were as much a part of me as my own beating heart. 

Fueled by hatred. 

Names and faces.

That shit was my bread and butter. 

I pulled Kiya behind me as soon as his knife was away from her throat and he looked over at me with disdain. 

"This is your own fucking fault, you know," he turned on his heel and was gone too. 

We hit the ground together as soon as the sound of the slamming door echoed through our room, and I waited for the click of a lock turning, but none came. 

"We've gotta get out of here, now," I held her close, trying not to shiver as her silent sobs shook her frame almost violently. 

"Wait! Wait wait wait," she gasped on a whisper, like they were still listening from the other side of the heavy oak door, "if we leave now, they'll just start looking when they bring our bags, and we won't have any head start. Just wait for our things then we're out of here."

"They're going to kill us when they come back," I gripped her face between my hands, staring into the deep brown of her eyes, the color of _iteru_. The river. 

"Tim said so when we got here. Kiya. There won't be any leaving our bags and saying goodnight."

"Why would he tell you that ahead of time?!" she ran a frustrated hand back through her hair, yelping as she his a knot and then pulling the whole mass of muddy locks over her shoulder to untangle. 

"Well...its possible that...well, I may have threatened to kill him first," I murmured, "so I'm assuming it was just a loose lips moment."

"Gods, Mer," she groaned, "whats going on? If this is a dream, I would really like to be awake now!" she started pinching and slapping her skin, and I took both her hands and shook my head. 

"Not a dream. But we need a plan. We--"

My lips clamped shut as the door re-opened and a slight girl dragged both our packs in, breathing heavily with the effort, but squeaking when I stood and she immediately dropped our things and dashed for the door. 

This time, the lock sounded. A hard, unforgiving click that echoed inside my head with a sense of finality. 

I tossed Kiya her pack and she made an exasperated sound as she examined the zipper.

"They went through them, check yours," she called, laying out clothes and books carefully on the rug, shaking them out and refolding everything.

My heart started pounding in my ears, and I didn't bother being as gentle with my belongings as she was. My clothes went flying, toiletries clattered across the ground and I let out a frustrated cry as I turned my bag upsidedown over the bed and nothing else fell out of it.

They were gone.

My journal and my scarab. 

The pendant itself had little resale value and wasn't bejeweled or finely carved. It was a rough thing, strung through with a dozen strands of plain green thread, but it was the only thing I had left of her. 

I was aware that it was stupid and cliche, so I never told anyone except Kiya and her family, and only because they were in a unique position to understand.

People thought I was hard and jaded, and they were right, but I didn't care. They didn't have the slightest clue who I was, and that was fine by me. 

It was winter where I was growing up, one of three bouncing bundles of joy, though I'd always been quiet and reserved, preferring to read rather than skip and play with my big brothers. 

Mom did her best to be stern and scold us straight to bed, but we always knew she'd collapse into the big queen size bed the three of us shared at that age and gather us into her arms. 

Even Ahmose, the oldest of us, her very own moon child, would grab me up in his arms and we'd all snuggle up and drift off to sleep to one of her endless number of stories. She'd gotten pregnant with him during her monthly courses, hence his name, and he was always the best of us. Not just because he was eleven and bigger than both me and Reseph, but because he just naturally excelled at everything. He was faster, he was smarter, more personable. But he always hung back with us and made sure we were included. 

Our mother knew people looked at us strangely, the children with the peculiar names (_'Look all I'm saying is what kind of mother names her beautiful baby girl MerNeith?!'), _living in that house with all the statuary and symbols drawn over the eves, but it never bothered her, and we didn't know better. 

As far as we were concerned, our whole world was wrapped up in the whispered prayers of our mother, in the nightly games of senet, the stories of strange gods with peoples' bodies and animals' heads. 

Our last night all together wasn't different from any of the others. Mom had sat on dad's lap giggling at his stupid jokes and reconnecting with each other while Ahmose and Reseph did their homework in front of a movie, and I read for the hundredth time the picture book of the gods. Six was hardly old enough to comprehend the meanings, but it was my absolute favorite and I took it with me everywhere the way some children took a teddy bear or baby blanket. 

Mom tucked us in, same as usual, dropping a swift kiss on each of our foreheads as our little eyes got heavier and heavier and finally the lamp switched off. 

I remembered thinking the screams were a nightmare at first, and when they stopped and I started crying, I tried to get up to run to my parents room, to crawl into their bed and wriggled between them where I was the safest. 

But Ahmose clamped a hand over my lips and shook his head violently back and forth, grabbing for Reseph with his other hand and shushing us. He shoved us both underneath the bed and looked down one more time on hands and knees.

"Stay here," he whispered, and I couldn't stop my crying any more than I could stop from wetting my pants as cold terror gripped me.

"Mama," I cried, trying to crawl out from under the bed to follow Ahmose. Surely he was going to see her about his nightmare too, why couldn't I go? But Reseph's grip on my arm was like an iron clamp.

"Mer! Shush!" he hissed, finally clapping a hand over my wailing mouth as boots crossed our doorway, lowly backlit from the nightlight in the hall. 

It was nightmarish, the way they slowly turned towards us, huddled under the bed, barely breathing, trembling. 

But they turned away and the floorboards creaked as their owner moved down the hall, a dark trail dripping behind him. I knew Mom would be mad when she found the mess he was making. 

The shouts and dull thudding sound broke the silence, and finally Reseph pulled me towards him, rolling onto his side so he could hug me close for a moment.

"On the count of three, you run downstairs and get outside as fast as you can."

"No," I whined, afraid of being away from him, terrified of not knowing what was happening, though even my small childs brain knew on some level.

"Yes Mer. You have to be brave. Remember the story Mom told us," he whispered, "remember how Isis was brave and demanded that the foreign king return Osiris' body?"

I whimpered and nodded.

"Be brave. Just like Isis was brave. Run outside and go straight to the neighbors house, okay? I'll be right behind you."

He silently crawled out on his stomach, staying still for a moment, listening for where the boots were in our house before motioning to me and I crawled out next to him, shivering with fright.

"Brave, Mer," he reminded, "I love you."

My trembling lips couldn't tell him I loved him back as he pulled me to my feet and pressed one finger to his lips, creeping towards the doorway, still holding my hand.

"One. Two. _Three!"_

My little feet pattered over the floorboards, down the hall, down the stairs, sobbing and blindly running, ultimately crashing to the floor with a high pitched scream as my feet lost their traction in the pool of blood. 

I remembered that peculiar moment of clarity, beyond what a child my age should have been able to experience, looking at the lifeless face that had kissed me goodnight and tucked me into bed. 

I remembered hearing the boots on the stairs, a slow descent as I tugged the necklace off over her head. 

Slipping as I got to my feet and tried to run for the door, only to be turned by a hand fisted into my hair. 

His face was terrifying, with a big jagged scar cutting across from one side to the other. 

But there was that moment again.

The second of pure, unadulterated clarity, like nirvana, where his visage burned itself into my brain before he threw me back down to the floor and I tried to crawl towards the door.

It was so close. It was right there. 

The only thing I remembered after that was extreme, earth-shattering, searing pain, then I woke up strapped to a monitor, looking up into a stern but not unkind matronly face clad in a starched white wimple, my mother's pendant around my neck.

The rest was history, and I blinked hard as I came back from my reverie, realizing that I was trembling again. Shaking from head to toe, standing in this strange room, in this strange country that shouldn't have existed, missing the only thing in this world that I really cared about anymore.

I could hear Kiya breathing behind me, keeping her distance as I turned, my face spelling murder.

"They took it," I said flatly, "my necklace and my journal are gone."

She winced like I'd struck her, knowing that this postponed our departure and I scrubbed both hands over my face, trying to make some of the frustration dissipate, but they were grabbed up in hers and yanked away.

"We're not leaving without them, MerNeith. I promise."


	3. Chapter 3

I tested the door warily, confident there was someone on the other side, but I had to make sure. An annoyed grunt and a rustling like someone was leaning more weight back against the sturdy wood was the only answer I got and I silently backed away, turning for Kiya. 

After my little dance with Tim and Johannes, I was sure we'd be guarded for the short duration of our stay. 

\--

"What the fuck was that!" John finally yelled, rounding on Tim and Johannes who were still rubbing at sore spots on their heads as they entered the throne room, "its like you weren't even trying to not look like complete amateurs!"

"Hey!" Tim snapped back, feeling irritable and like he was going to have a vicious headache come morning, "how the fuck was I supposed to know she was going to be able to do that! I didn't even see her move!"

"You're both embarrassments and idiots," the king butted in, rubbing his temples and finishing the conversation before turning to John.

"What do they carry, anything interesting?" 

The king wasn't sure that we were spies at all, and hadn't doubted that what Kiya said was true, but orders were orders, and even he shivered at the memory of the voice, like the grinding of steel against a whetstone, telling him at his very inception that all citizens were to be monitored, all newcomers immediately detained.

"They don't exactly pack light for spies if that's what they are. Lots of clothes and books," John complemented the king's thoughts with his own and tossed my journal over. 

Jonas opened the front cover, running a finger over the handwriting, not so much reading as searching for keywords.

"School notes," he murmured, glancing over each jotted idea, recognizing enough about the subject to second guess his original thought, "they're students?"

All four shrugged.

But the scribbled names and places were unmistakable, even to an untrained eye, and Jonas found himself rubbing at his temples again.

Perhaps not spies. But certainly not innocent wanderers either. 

"He'll need to be summoned for this," the king took a deep breath, like it would somehow refresh his depleted stores of patience and energy, "so now would be a good time to tell me if there's m--"

He stopped cold as he flipped another page, and that voice sounded in his ears again as its owners eyes stared up at him from the lined paper. It was a half-hearted sketch, but even so, it was unmistakable and the king felt a bead of cold sweat slide down between his shoulderblades. 

_She knows about him_.

John's face twitched, the ghost of a grimace, gone as soon as it had come as his eyes flicked down to the page and he advanced, setting the scarab down on the open face of my notebook, breaking the eye contact as it covered the man's face.

"She carried this as well, sir."

Jonas picked up the amulet, expecting it have some weight in his palm, but it hardly felt heavier than air. 

"Protective?" he glanced up at the other man.

"Can't imagine so, since it was packed in her bag, not worn on her person."

"What about the blonde one. Kiya."

"She didn't have anything of interest. Not American though like the other one."

"Nothing at all?"

"Not unless you suddenly read Arabic and want to decipher her notes," John half-groaned, taking a step back when his master's eyes snapped up to his with a flash like hard steel.

"Apologies, sire, I was careless with my tone," he immediately lowered his head to stare at the floor and was mimicked by the other three men as the king rose from his seat, rubbing a thumb over the scarab in his palm, the thread dangling down between his fingers. 

"Leave."

They didn't need to be told twice and all but trampled each other heading for the door. 

"Henrik," the king called, almost as an afterthought, making the other turn with his mouth set in a firm line, not quite a grimace, but close, "move them down to somewhere more...secure."

"Right away, my king," he bowed and retreated to follow the others out the door before making a break for the guest wing. 

The king slumped back in his chair, wishing he could just close his eyes and rest, but knowing that the punishment for doing so would be as instantaneous as it would be severe. 


	4. Chapter 4

I tested the French doors too, expecting them to be locked, but finding that they swung open as soon as I turned the handle, and I whipped around to motion Kiya over as I trotted out onto the balcony.

It was huge, overlooking a sea that I could hear, but only see the white caps of from this height. We must have been built right into the cliffs, and I turned in circles, surveying my surroundings, trying to find some way to escape. 

Down was too dangerous. We had to be nearly ten stories above the surface of the ocean, and all I could see was sheer, slick rock from here down to the water. There were probably enough footholds that we could manage it during the day, but I wasn't going to chance it in the dead of night. 

Up it was, then.

I turned so my back was to the railing and looked up, gauging the climb. It wouldn't be bad, and in fact it looked like I could just hop from one bacony to the next, like we were staying in a fucking hotel or something.

"Did he say Avatar Country?" Kiya asked, standing at my side and looking up, following my train of thought, "also there's no way we're getting up there with our packs."

"Avatar Country doesn't exist as far as any map I've ever seen," I murmured, "not that we needed more proof that they're fucking insane, but I guess we have it anyways...I think we can make it."

"Mer, that's a huge jump."

"Its our only choice, Kiya! We'll stuff what we need into one and I'll carry it."

She turned and looked over the railing, shuddering when she saw how high above the ocean we were, then looking at me as she chewed her lip.

"Lets go, come on, I don't know if they're gonna do bedchecks or whatever, but we probably don't have much time either way."

"I wouldn't call it a bedcheck so much as a relocation."

We both whipped around at the sound of his voice, not having heard the heavy door open and shut in the other room as we plotted our escape. 

"And if you're thinking of trying to leave," Henrik continued, "I'll do you a favor and tell you that this place is a labyrinth and you'll never figure it out."

"Appreciate the vote of confidence," I sneered, pulling Kiya behind me again. I'd seen his knife at her throat enough times for one night, "but your friend John and I have business to settle first."

"Ohh, that's precious," he sighed sarcastically, pressing a hand to his heart like he was touched by my protectiveness over Kiya, "lets go."

I doubted the organ could beat at all, black and rotten as it surely was. 

"And know this," he rounded on us both after taking a step away, "we're fucking daisies compared to whose coming tomorrow, so not making things worse for yourself is wise."

"We're not going anywhere with you," I growled, irritated at his bossiness and the vagaries that they all kept throwing around, but grudgingly accepting that the more information I had the better off we'd be, "unless you tell me what the fuck is going on."

That seemed to make Henrik pull up short.

"Why are we here," I continued, wondering what I could get out of him. He didn't look dumb, but sometimes the prettiest faces hid the emptiest holes, "where are we? What do you want with us? Who is coming tomorrow?"

An unsettling curve of his lips contorted his face into a smirk that was grudgingly lovely, save for his dead eyes. 

"Oh, but that's right. You already know him, don't you..."

The only further response he gave to any of my questions was to take the tip of his index finger and trace a line diagonally down across his face, starting at his hairline, going over the bridge of his nose and down his cheek on the opposite side, tracing the path of a scar that didn't belong to him. 

It was such a simple motion, but I felt the whole world begin to swirl around me. 

How would he know about Actaeon. 

"Journal," Kiya murmured into my ear, seeing the beginnings of my panic for what they were. 

_Gods, Mer you idiot. _

_Of course. The drawing in my journal. _

He'd just been trying to spook me into losing focus. 

_But Actaeon is dead, you fucking moron. _

Not so much happening under the curls then. 

"Hmm, I don't think so. We'll go our own way, thanks."

"You're coming with me on the king's orders, and its not negotiable, so don't bother."

"I've actually found that almost everything is in fact negotiable, Henrik," I laughed darkly, secretly glad to pick a fight so I could exhaust some of this pent up rage and energy that seemed to make my bones buzz. Kiya backed away out of my hold and I crooked a finger at him, "so lets negotiate."

"I'm a lot faster than those other two idiots," he warned, shrugging out of his jacket, secretly glad for the same reason as me. It had been a long couple of weeks, and he spoke again as he rolled up his shirt sleeves, "and I have no qualms about hitting a woman."

"Good. Me neither."

He wasn't wrong, he was a lot faster than Tim and Johannes, more lithe and better with anticipation, and he easily blocked my first strike, meeting my arm in midair with his own and knocking me off my path. 

"And just for the record," I grunted, landing a blow so fast he never saw me coming, "he's dead. Death penalty."

Henrik's feet left the ground for a moment to escape my shin as it aimed for the backs of his legs, and he laughed loudly, unsettlingly, like it was a game, even as he blocked another blow and took one to the back of his head.

"You think you know everything, don't you," he danced out of my reach and I turned as he started to circle me, "I bet that makes you a lot of friends."

"Its annoying how much you chatter, Henrik," I smirked as his hand sailed through the empty air where my head had just been, "ohh so close!" 

"You're quick on your feet," he growled, refocusing as I danced out of his reach again, "I'll give you that much."

"I told you guys, you can't fucking touch me."

"Well the blood on your neck begs to differ," he said, his tone changing halfway through as he went on the attack and I parried all his blows, though I still had to use more effort than I had with either of his companions.

"Only a coward brings a knife to a fistfight."

Henrik laughed, like we were having a conversation over tea, rather than exchanging blows designed to inflict real pain and bodily damage. 

"I'll let him know you think so."

"Doubt you'll get the chance," I finally breathed, silencing the voice in the back of my head that called me a murderer as I put my shoulder into his chest and he stumbled backwards, flipping over the railing and falling through the empty space towards the ocean below. 

I remembered something I'd read about Golden Gate Bridge suicide jumpers, and how hitting the water from that height was like hitting concrete. 

Kiya was silent and wide-eyed behind me, scrubbing her hands over her face, trying to get a grip as I remained turned towards the sea and watched the splash and the ripples. 

One down. 

"Time to go," I said, turning to face her.

"You d--you didn't ha-have to--Mer, you _killed him._"

I snarled at her, though I shouldn't have.

"And what do you think exactly his plans were for us?! HMM? Gonna go sit in the sun and have a fucking picnic, Kiya?!"

She was trembling and I hated that it was because she was afraid of me. I should have run forward and grabbed her up into a tight hug and cried that I was sorry until she understood, but we didn't have the time.

And I wasn't sorry for what I'd done, only that it had been in front of her. 

Names and faces. 

Henrik. 

I assumed they'd find his body in the morning.

"Lets get the fuck out of here," I grumbled, shaking my head and going back inside to gather our things. I needed to travel light to wind my way through the castle and find John and get my scarab back. The journal would be nice, but its importance paled in comparison to the other, only containing rough sketches and jotted notes from class and those things that popped into my brain in the middle of the night that refused to wait until daylight. 

I combined some of our clothes, leaving most of the books behind until the pack was light enough that I was sure I could make the climb with it. 

I half expected Kiya to be gone when I walked back out to the balcony after stuffing our unused clothes under the covers of the bed, trying to make it look like we were sound asleep as we made our own Alcatraz escape. 

But she was still there, looking down over the railing where Henrik had plummeted to his death.

"Look, Kiya," I started, but didn't get to finish my thought as I suddenly found my face full of soft blonde tresses.

"I'm sorry! Gods, Mer, I'm so fucking sorry!" she breathed, "I didn't mean to be so judgmental. I know you only did what you had to. I promise I was just surprised!"

"Shh shh, its okay, love, its okay," I said softly, glad that she wasn't running from me forever, "but we need to go. They'll come looking for him."

I hoisted her up until she was climbing along the window ledges, silent as the night itself, and I followed, launching over the gap and clinging to the ledge when my feet were safely on the balcony several floors up. 

It seemed senseless to scale the outside of the entire castle, though now that I was seeing more of it, it seemed like a Chateau, built into the cliffs next to the sea. The balcony door opened and I glanced around inside to check for occupants that may be unhappy with our sudden intrusion.

No one stirred.

The furnishings were simple, not terribly lavish or ostentatious. He kept the colors complementary to the seaside, light shades of blues and greens, like sea glass. At least if the king was going to be a total asshole, he was a total asshole with decent taste. 

I finally breathed when we peaked out into the hallway and it proved to be empty by some minor miracle. Apparently, the king didn't doubt Henrik's ability to complete his task of relocating us. 

"What do you think, up or down?" I asked quietly to Kiya and she glanced around, equally as unsure as I was where their private rooms would be located.

"Up?"

"Up it is, come on."

We walked for what felt like hours, ducking into doorways at the slightest sound, though never actually encountering anyone. 

Didn't this guy have any security at all other than Frick and Frack and Dumb and Dumber?

"Okay, you make your way outside, I'll meet you there. Hide and wait for me, Kiya."

"I'm not leaving you," she insisted as we climbed the last set of stairs, and I blocked the doorway to prevent her from getting to the landing. 

"I'm sorry that I did that in front of you back there, and I wish you hadn't seen it, but I don't know what this is going to come to, Kiya. It might get...messy."

She sighed and furrowed her eyebrows at me before taking both my hands and whispering a prayer in Arabic. 

"Whose protecting me now?" I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but only just. She was constantly asking her pantheon to watch over me and make me different from the hard way that I was. 

"Sekhmet."

"Warrior goddess."

Kiya nodded, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek and disappearing. She was so lithe and quiet, I didn't doubt for a moment that she'd make it out and I stepped into the hallway without a second thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think I kinda like the wee tiny chapters.

As it turned out, we were both wrong about our choice of direction. 

The top floor of the castle didn't turn out to be the personal quarters of the king, or John, or anyone at all it seemed. 

The floor was series of windowless corridors, lowly lit by soft-glow yellow light bulbs, and I was briefly reminded of the archive at the university - dark and dry, meticulously clean, but still not a place you could ever really get comfortable. 

But as I continued to walk, peering around, straining my ears for any hint of sound, I realized that comfort wasn't the point, at least I assumed it wasn't based on the iron bars that caged in each individual cell.

"What the fuck?" I whispered to myself, peering through the bars of one, glancing around at the spotless stone walls, the flagstone floor that was chilly even in the deep months of summer that raged outside. 

A gasp sounded, followed by the scuffling of footfalls, like someone was rocketing up off the floor.

"Hello?!?"

His call startled me, and I clapped a hand over my mouth as I jumped back against the wall, searching for the speaker after a moment, and taking deep breaths to calm my sudden nerves. 

If he's in a cell, he's gotta be the enemy of my enemy, right?

My pace quickened as I closed in on the cell that had two hands wrapped around the bars, a face pressed between the slats at an angle, trying to see who I was. 

Just to be sure, I stayed flush against the wall, out of his sight until I was right in front of his cell.

"Hey! Gods, you don't know how glad I am to see someone finally, get me out of here!!"

I stared open-mouthed as Henrik pleaded with me to spring him from his cell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LIKE I WOULD ACTUALLY FUCKING KILL HENRIK.  
Ye of little faith.


	6. Chapter 6

My mouth opened and closed and I was sure my eyes were about to bug out of my face, but I couldn't stop any part of my reaction to seeing him right where he was. Not falling over a railing, plummeting towards the sea and his sure death, but standing staring at me like I was wasting time by not immediately springing him.

"What the fuck are you doing here," I finally whispered again, noticing the distinct tremble in my voice that gave away how well and truly mind-fucked I was getting. 

"Look, I can explain, just get me out first, we have to go find the king!"

"Wh-bu-I just threw you over a cliff! You fucking fell at least ten stories, I watched you! You can't be here. This is a trick."

He reached out and snatched my arm with his hand, forcing me to turn and face him, his eyes desperate like I was his last chance. 

"That wasn't me. I promise I can explain, but I have to find my king. Please help me...please get me out of here."

My brain refused to accept that he was here, in front of me, fine and whole and okay, but the longer I stared at him the more I noticed that he'd clearly been in the cell for several days, if not longer. His hair needed to be washed and his face wasn't clean shaven like the Henrik I'd encountered earlier. 

"Please!" he said again, louder, almost begging, "I have to find the king!!"

I closed my eyes for a second, trying to get a grip, trying to force my brain to cooperate when it dawned on me. 

A twin?

"What's your name?" I asked with narrow eyes.

"Henrik," he responded immediately.

"Fuck, do you have a sibling also named Henrik who happens to look a lot like you?"

"No, look, I don't und--"

"Fuck!" I said again, about to tell him that it didn't matter either way because I didn't have keys, when he gasped and pulled me close to the bars to whisper, "someone's coming!"

I dashed into the shadows just as a guard appeared, moseying down the corridor and peering into Henrik's cell, squinting against the low light, checking on the prisoner.

The thought was just crossing my mind to incapacitate him and find out if he had keys when Henrik pressed the back of one hand to his forehead.

"I-I don't, woah, I don't feel so good," he mumbled, swaying on his feet a little before dramatically collapsing to the floor and drawing a grumbled curse from the guard who quickly fished a set of keys from his pocket and stuffed one into the lock.

Very clever.

I was in the cell only a second behind him as he bent to feel Henrik's pulse, and I clapped one hand over his mouth as the other found the pressure point at the base of his neck and neatly sent him to sleep. 

I wasn't sure if I needed to be wary of this Henrik, or if I was about to get myself killed in this fucked up dreamscape, but I couldn't ignore the pleading look that he'd worn - he was seriously concerned for his king in a way the others hadn't been, and he certainly didn't seem as dickish as his lookalike.

What the fuck was going on.

But as I found myself suddenly pinned on the ground under his full weight with one hand clamped over my mouth, I started kicking myself immediately for my foolishness and moment of softness.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said quietly, with a voice I hadn't ever heard the other one use, "but I need to know that you're not gonna hurt me either. Because I've about fucking had it with being up here, and I've never seen you in the castle before."

I squirmed a little until his hand loosened over my mouth, and I watched his pupils expand just a little as I breathed across his palm, thinking before speaking.

"I just want to go home," I said, shaking my head, the sound louder as he removed his hand finally, "I just want to get my necklace back and get the fuck out of here and find the temple and get the fuck back to the states."

"You're American?" he asked, raising both eyebrows and I started becoming annoyingly into the way his weight pressed me into the floor as he seemed to completely forget that he was still on top of me, "how'd you get here?"

"What, am I not twanging enough for you to tell?" I said exasperatedly, "and you should fucking know, since it was your pals who kidnapped us."

"Us? And thats impossible."

I made a face at him and turned my chin so he could see where Johannes' blade had split the skin of my neck. 

"Its not impossible. Whats impossible, Henrik, is that I just launched you over the balcony and into the ocean and here you fucking are. You're not even wet."

"That wasn't me, I already told you that," he pushed himself up to his feet and offered me a hand that I ignored. 

"They're doubles. I know that sounds insane, but I promise we've never met before. There are doubles of all of us."

I ushered him out of the cell with both hands like he was wasting time by just standing there, and when I turned the opposite way, he caught my hand again.

"Stop touching me please," I snapped, and he stepped back a foot automatically.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, where are you going? He won't be that way."

"I'm leaving. Best of luck finding your king, but I can tell you he's not up here."

"He's gotta be. I told you, they're doubles. And you should stay with me, I don't know whats happening out there. I don't even know how long we've been up here."

Doubles. Yeah, okay, Splice.

"I'll be fine. My friend is outside waiting for me, I have to go."

Henrik paled and grimaced at me, "outside where?"

"I don't fucking know, we were basically hogtied in the back of a van when we got here Henrik!" I yelled, confused and frustrated by this entire situation.

"Hello?!?" someone called from down the corridor, and it was faint, but we both heard it. Henrik took off running and I found myself following him, yanking the keys out of the cell door and groaning.

More friends. Great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more friends!  
Guess who?  
Like you don't already know.


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh, this is NOT fucking okay," I tore both hands back through my hair as I reached the bars and found Tim looking surprised as hell back out at me when he did a double take.

"Hi," he managed after several moments, both eyebrows lifted. 

Our heads cocked to the side almost in unison as we stared at each other.

"Wh-who are you?" he finally stammered, unable to look away or clap Henrik on the shoulder through the bars and demand release.

"You...you really don't know, do you," I blinked hard, furrowing my eyebrows at him, breaking the trance as I realized that he was telling the truth. 

He didn't have a clue who I was.

What the fuck. 

"No, why, have we met before? I don't remember you, and I feel like I absolutely would..."

"Tim," Henrik scolded, surprised at his friend's forward comment, then patting his pockets, "oh, fuck me."

I stopped his retreat back to his cell with one hand across his chest as Tim and I still stared at each other, and then offered him the keys in my pocket, still unable to look away.

It felt like we were magnets, and I was sure this wasn't the man that I'd encountered earlier with the shit attitude.

"You're Tim?" I shook my head with disbelief as I finally scrubbed my hands over my face, grinding the heels of them against my eyes. 

I needed to focus and get the hell out to find Kiya. 

"Thats what they tell me."

I found myself taking an involuntary step back as the lock clicked loudly when Henrik found the right key and Tim exited his cell.

Why was I behaving this way?  
No one spooked me anymore, and certainly not people I'd cleanly taken down in a fair fight, even if it was some kind of fucked up doppelganger.

_Get a grip, Mer._

"Who are you," he asked again, stepping towards me, his eyes roaming over my face until he saw the blood on my neck, and the mud on my clothes, splattered over my arms and legs from where I'd been knocked down, "what happened? Are you okay?"

"I don't...I don't understand whats happening," I whispered, feeling the pit of my stomach drop as I realized I might be going insane, and I touched the line of dried blood.

It seemed real enough.

"Who did this?" he touched it too and suddenly seemed angry...angrier than he should have been and I felt my hackles automatically go up both from his reaction and my own to the way his fingertips felt like they burned my skin.

"Tim we need to find Johannes and John and get to the king."

"Johannes," I repeated, feeling slightly dazed, and like everything was becoming too foggy to clearly understand. But I touched my neck again and they put the pieces together. 

"He cut you?"

I blinked twice and nodded.

"Definitely not ours, then," Henrik turned to Tim, who nodded back, looking over at me again.

"That wasn't Johannes, but I'm sorry for it anyways. Are you okay?" his voice was softer, less angry.

"I'm fine. Someone please tell me what the fuck is going on."

Tim took another step towards me, getting close until I could clearly see the way a thousand different shades of blues and greens swirled together in his irises.

"Will you trust me?"

My breath hitched.

"No. I don't even know you. Either of you."

"And yet, we now seem to be each others' best chance of getting out of here alive. So please. Trust me."

I seemed to have little choice and he continued when I stayed silent, though we started all working our way down the labyrynth of corridors, searching for the others that I refused to believe existed until they were right in front of me. 

"There are doubles of all of us."

"Okay..."

"Thats what I said!" Henrik added, "why do you believe him when he tells you, but not me!"

He was irritatingly adorable when he sulked and I rolled my eyes before peering into another cell. 

"Because I didn't believe you but now I've seen two of you both and unless this place is full of fucked up sets of twins, then I have no other explanation. How is that even possible? Cloning?"

"Magic," someone answered lowly from the back corner of the cell to my right. 

He was nothing like the other king when he stepped forward into the low lighting, and one only needed the briefest glance to know it. His posture was perfect, his back rigid and straight under the hard muscle, covered in a myriad of tattoos that wove seamlessly into one another, only broken up by the blonde dreadlocks that fell around his shoulders. 

"My king!" 

Both Tim and Henrik dropped to one knee and bowed their heads in deference, the latter smacking the backs of his fingers against my calf, trying to get my attention so I would do the same. 

"My friends," he smiled down at them in a way that made me understand that they were subjects second to being companions, family even, as he looked happily back and forth between them, "rise, please, there isn't time for formalities."

I met his gaze head on when he looked up from them to me. 

"I don't know you," the king mused, seeming awfully confident and comfortable for being basically in a prison cell as he looked me over, "you're not of my flock it would seem."

"Obviously, I don't even know where I am."

"You are in the Kingdom of Avatar Country, my dear."

I made a face as both men got to their feet.

"I was in Sweden."

"Still are, kind of," Henrik mumbled, searching the keyring again for one that fit into the lock. 

The three of them embraced fiercely when the door swung open on its hinge, hugging and slapping each other on the back before all rounding on me together. 

"Do you believe us now?"

I inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of my nose as I grimaced at Henrik.

Only one last way to confirm.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and turned to Tim, taking a step closer.

"Does your head hurt?"

"I've been sleeping on the stone floor for two weeks, my everything hurts."

That drew snickers from his companions, but I reached out one had and paused next to his face when he asked what I was doing.

"Just...indulge me."

Tim raised both eyebrows, but didn't stop me as I gingerly felt the back of his head for a lump or any kind of tender spot from where it would have smacked against the hard stone floor earlier when I'd literally swept him off his feet. 

He made no faces like he was in discomfort from my prodding.

There was nothing.

Nothing there at least, but his face turned into my palm like a caress as it drifted out of his hair and his eyes seemed electric, even in the dim lighting of the holding area we were in as they locked onto mine. 

We didn't say anything, but he took a step towards me, his hands reaching out, his lips opening as he tried to speak and breathe and ask a hundred questions, drawn to me. 

But I didn't stick around for any of it. 

This was all far too fucking much, and I turned away and immediately bolted for the stairs, ignoring Henrik's surprised gasp and Tim's call of 'hey wait! Don't go!'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look Everyone, Its TIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMM.


	8. Chapter 8

My feet pounded against the polished stone floors, down hallways and countless sets of stairs.

Exit.

Where was the exit??

"Come on, come on!" I panted, all but skidding around the last corner, finally catching sight of the grand entrance. Two beautiful and ornately carved wooden doors all but beckoned to me as I tore down the hallway of floor-to-ceiling windows, wishing I could have one second to appreciate the blood-red sunrise kissing the panes, but knowing I was dead as soon as my feet stopped moving if anyone found me.

Kiya was up out of her hiding place and dashing towards me one second after I slipped out the side entrance, figuring correctly that there had to be a more efficient way of coming and going than lugging open the huge stately doors. 

"Mer!!"

She snatched me into her embrace and held tightly onto me for longer than she should have given that we were still probably hunted women. 

"I thought you were never gonna come out! What the hell took you so long? Did you find your scarab? Is John...alive?"

"I didn't find him, I got...sidetracked. We gotta go, now. This is way more fucked up than I thought, I'll carry the--" I realized in that second that I'd set our pack down up in the dungeon. 

Up in the dungeon?

Who the hell has an above ground dungeon?

Tower?

Whatever. We were shit out of luck, food, and clothes. 

"Oh, fuck, Kiya I have to go and get our pack, I left it upstairs!"

"No, you can't go back in! We'll figure it out, come on," she urged, but was caught short as John silently slipped out the door too, having noticed it unlatched, and lunged to grab Kiya by the hair and yank her away from me.

"NO NO NO!" I shrieked, darting for him and receiving a sharp backhand across my face that made me see stars as I reeled backwards, stumbling several steps. 

"You two are a fucking pain in the ass, and I don't care if he wants to interrogate you, I'm finished with it."

He unsheathed the buck knife at his hip so fast, it almost seemed to materialize in his hand out of thin air, and everything moved in slow motion as I watched it rise towards Kiya's throat. 

His grin was menacing as his eyes locked onto mine, burning in their intensity like they had neon lights behind them, and my throat closed around my scream.

"JOHN."

He paused just as the cold steel began to press into her skin and his head whipped around to snap a hasty _'what' _to Henrik as he trotted over and glanced warily at me, then Kiya, who literally looked like she was seeing a ghost. 

"Do you need something, I'm in the middle of solving two problems at once," John snapped again when he wasn't answered the first time.

"Yeah, I need to not get fucking locked up like those other assholes by disobeying the king!"

"Oh that's rich since you were the one who was supposed to fucking move them and here they are!"

"Its not his fault, he got his pretty ass kicked fair and square," I chimed in, wondering if he was actually about to get us out of this thing alive, "hows your head feeling, Curly?"

Tim's words rang in my head about us being each others' best shot at survival, and I figured I'd give him all the help I could if it got John's knife to move even just a few inches away from its present position. I was sure I could get it from him, but I didn't want Kiya to get sliced in the process. 

"I don't want to hear another fucking word out of you," Henrik rounded on me with a growl, and a quick wink, silently telling me to follow his lead. 

'Bitch', I mouthed at him and he added the insult to the end of his thought with a grimace.

"Fall," he whispered, pulling his hand back and whipping it through the air barely a millimeter from my face, and I briefly wondered as I cried out dramatically and tumbled to the ground if he had perfect aim or if he'd just gotten stupid lucky and missed my cheek. 

"Mer!!! You leave her alone you asshole motherfucker stupid reanimating sack of shit dumbass curly hair motherfucking stupid FUCKER!!!" 

Henrik, despite himself, paused in surprise and tried valiantly, but ultimately failed to stifle the hysterical laugh at her hurled insults as he stepped closer to her, hoping he was at least coming close to convincing John not to slit her throat. 

He grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked her out of the other's grip, forcing her to stand up on her toes as he fisted his hand into the material and brought it nearly up to his chin.

"Did mama just teach you to say bad words?" he said with the most condescending tone he could muster.

"You wouldn't be able to stand your ground if my mother even looked at you," she spat, bringing her fist up and crashing it against his face.

He didn't expect it, but by the time he saw it coming it was too late and his head rocked to the side, though she wasn't terribly strong.

"Ouch! Fuck!" he let go of her and rubbed at his jaw where her blow had landed.

Mistake. 

John huffed a breath as he closed his eyes and shook his head at his own stupidity. It had been a long night with no sleep, and he hadn't even noticed the fact that Henrik's face wasn't shaved like he usually kept it until his fingers were rubbing over his jaw, scratching against the stubble there. Nor was he wearing his court uniform as the king required any time they were outside of their private chambers. 

"For fucks sake," he grumbled, gripping the hilt of his knife that he'd only just sheathed as he advanced on Henrik.

"We're not supposed to kill them, John," Henrik had no idea if it was true or not, but it was a last ditch effort as he saw John advancing with his knife drawn again.

"Fucking hell, give it up, I know who you are. Where's the other one."

"Bottom of the Gulf would be my best bet," I added, knowing that our game was up, but we were still three against one, and I liked our chances as I eased around to Henrik's side, touching his elbow lightly so he would know I was there.

John had height, but he was scrawny, and I was putting a plan together in my head that I hoped like hell would work when Henrik put his arm out defensively across my torso, trying to pull me back behind him and reaching for Kiya with his other.

I stopped resisting at the sight of a second John, slipping outside like he was made of mist, and moving just as silently, testing the limits of my sanity as he did so. 

He met my gaze for one moment, long enough for me to understand that he was no facsimile, then stepped forward and clapped a hand over the other's mouth, tugging his head to the side and cleanly snapping his neck without ever using his other hand.

But of all the things that flabbergasted me about that moment, it wasn't watching his face remain expressionless immediately after murdering someone who was identical in every way to him, or watching Kiya step back with a terrified scream just behind her lips that was too choked to escape. 

It was the fact that rather than hitting the ground in a heap with a dull, lifeless thudding sound, John's body simply vanished, until only a single strand of hair drifted down to the pavement slowly like a strand of silk.

I raised both eyebrows at Henrik when he looked over at me but he just shrugged in response. 

Tim and the King joined us as I grabbed Kiya towards me, taking her face between my palms and bracing myself for the explanation that was about to come out of my mouth.

"You're okay, you're okay," I said softly as her eyes darted back and forth in panic and she grabbed at my hands, tugging on them so I would run too, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she physically shrank away when Henrik was suddenly at our sides.

"Please don't be afraid of me," he whispered, almost feeling tears welling in his own eyes. No one had ever looked at him that way before, like he terrified them, "I know its complicated," he took another step towards her, "but I promise they're nothing like us..."

"Don't panic, its okay, love," I held out my hands to her, like I was trying to calm a startled, cornered animal, "he's not gonna hurt you."

"HE WAS DEAD, MER."

"Not him," I corrected, "there are doubles, like you saw. And I see that question you're about to ask, and I don't have the fucking answer." I was getting exasperated, and I was exhausted and hungry and fed the fuck up with this stupid fake country with its stupid fake courtiers and its stupid evil magic.

"She's right, dear," the king chimed in from our other side and she whipped around, still unable to grasp how this was happening. She firmly believed in magic - in the rites, rituals, and spells of her pantheon that allowed them to wear clever disguises and bend humans to their will.

But magic was just for the gods. 

Jonas took my hand that I only just resisted snapping back out of his grasp and bent lowly over it in a perfect courtly bow, brushing his lips barely over my knuckles.

"I truly cannot thank you enough for the help you have given us, Miss. You have my eternal gratitude and may stay in my kingdom for as long as you both wish."

Kiya cocked her head sideways at me.

"What'd you do? I thought you were going to find John and get your necklace!"

"Jailbreak," Henrik laughed, grinning over at her, his pleasure at just being outside and free again overriding any fear about the uncertainty of the situation. His king was here, and he'd follow him to whatever end without a question, as he'd always done. 

"I...thanks," I murmured, feeling slightly awkward as he didn't let my hand go, but searched my eyes like he was learning me, "but I just want to find the temple and then go home."

"Temple?" Johannes piped up, and I tried not to glare at him, reminding myself that it hadn't been that one who had given me so much grief. 

Everyone seemed to suddenly stiffen, it was slight but enough that I noticed it, and I took a step back to put some distance between us in case I needed to start running.

"Not the Temple up in the mountains?"

I made a face at John, "probably not the one you're thinking of."

How may temples could there be in this stupid country?

No one knew about the temple of Ma'at, and I'd probably already said too much by mentioning it twice now. 

But, as was becoming something of a trend with these men, Jonas looked at me straight and did exactly the opposite of what I expected.

"Are you looking for the Temple of Ma'at?"

I thought for a moment Kiya's eyebrows were going to leave her face, they shot up so fast.

"How do you know about that?!" she asked, her obvious surprise coloring her face.

"Please," he chuckled, obviously enjoying having the upper hand, "no one knows a land or its people better than the king, dear..."

"No one is supposed to know about it at all," she added.

"Few do. Pretty damn hard to find from what I understand unless you know where it is. I've only been there the one time."

"That's right," Kiya glanced interestedly at the king, no longer fearful or operating just on fight of flight, but intrigued now about what he seemed to know, "you're only supposed to be able to find it if your intentions are honest."

"Is that so..."

Something unnerved me about the way he said it.

"Why are you looking for the Temple?" 

I'd been avoiding looking at Tim, disliking this feeling that was blooming in my gut everytime that our gazes locked, but feeling powerless to stop it. It didn't seem possible to viscerally hate a man so much, and then meet someone exactly the same as him who inspired something rather different. 

Best ignore him then until we can get the hell out. 

Picking apart a complicated attraction wasn't what I needed right now. 

Kiya filled in for my silence, though he still looked at me for a moment before his eyes flicked over to her as she answered his question, "my family have worshiped the old gods for...well, forever."

"You're a Kemetic?" John asked curiously and she nodded her head after a moment, recovering quickly from the surprise that he knew the word, "I have like a thousand questions for you."

"I am," she said, lifting her chin a little, "I'm sorry, I guess we haven't really been introduced. I'm Kiya, and this is Mer. Sorry we started so much trouble, we were just up in the mountains when..." she winced and stopped, turning her face to look at the sunrise as she chewed her lip.

"Bashed over the head and kidnapped is the TL;DR version," I turned to the king, "and while I understand it wasn't you five, I still don't understand how it was you five..."

Jonas visibly grimaced before moving towards Kiya, turning her by the shoulders and forcing her to look at him . 

"I, and my father before me, and his father before him, all the way back to the ancient kings, have had a pact with your people. To protect the Temple and its priests, and those who journey to find it. Your temple exists in my land, and I've never had a problem with that. I have no fight with you, Kiya, and I do hope you will accept my word."

She instantly did, finding that it was impossible to doubt his sincerity.

"Please, your majesty, what's happening? I don't even understand why we're here."

Henrik stood next to me silently, watching and I glanced over at him.

"Thanks for intervening back there. How'd you know to be such a dick?"

The corner of his mouth curved up in an irresistibly perfect smirk, "you did say you threw me over a cliff, didn't you?"

"Fair," I chuckled, "I appreciate you not actually smacking me. Once was enough for tonight...today...ugh."

Henrik frowned slightly, apologizing to me for something that wasn't his fault, "you'd have a hard time here finding anyone who condones violence of any kind against women."

"Well, I hate to tell you this, but all five of your doubles seem to think its pretty fun. Speaking of--"

"My king, if I may," Johannes stepped forward, glancing around, "we should not be doing this in the open..."

"Good man, right you are. Ladies, its probably best if we continue this discussion...privately."

I glanced back up at the castle and visibly bristled at the thought of going back inside.

"Its okay, nothing is going to happen to you," Tim said quietly from my other side, feeling the tension radiating off my body and stopping just short when his hand lifted of its own accord to settle at the small of my back. 

"I don't make a habit of waltzing back into places I just managed to escape from," I said through gritted teeth.

"We'll call it creeping, not waltzing, then. Its okay, come on, we'll have to do it together," Henrik took my arm, wrapping his hand around my bicep like I was being herded as the other tangled into my hair.

"Is this okay? Woah, your hair is really soft!" he laughed, immediately stifling it and clearing his throat though his fingers touched the strands again appreciatively, "uh, ahem, I mean..."

I shook my head as well as I could as John took Kiya the same way, apologizing profusely for having to do it, and triple checking that he wasn't hurting her as he wound her blonde locks around his fist. 

Tim followed Johannes and the king away to disappear into the shadows, glancing over his shoulder and letting his eyes linger on me for a moment too long as he drank in the way I looked half-restrained with fingers knotted into my hair. 

We all pretended like we didn't hear the low growl that escaped him, and I cursed as I felt my cheeks start to burn. 

Would he just fucking stop already?

Henrik nudged me forward, letting go of my arm to pull open the door, before gripping me again, enough to be convincing, but not to hurt.

"Okay, lets go...bitch..." 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHATTUP WEIRD ORPHAN WORK, HAVE ANOTHER CHAPTER ✌

Our little procession made it most of the way down the hall unmolested, until someone scurried past us with a murmured 'king's coming'.

All four of us muttered some form of profanity, and Kiya and I lapsed as best we could into the part of the struggling escapees, trying to wrench our arms away from the men's iron grips, while calling them every name we could think of as we rounded the corner, putting on the best show we could manage.

"I said not another word from you, or I will slit your fucking throat," John snarled in Kiya's ear, being almost frighteningly convincing, but giving her arm a subtle squeeze like a silent apology before gripping it tightly again.

Henrik too, growled lowly into my ear in a way that made me positively shiver as he pressed his whole body closer to me and snarled menacingly.

"You try anything like that again, and I'll just kill you both and be done with it."

"Good morning, gentlemen," the king cocked an unimpressed eyebrow at both of them as he stopped in front of us, blocking our way, "is there a problem here?"

"No sir, no problem at all," Henrik replied coolly.

Two blonde eyebrows lifted like he was thinking about inquiring further, but he ultimately decided not to press Henrik on the obvious lie.

We were after all still in custody.

"Good, because I do still expect both of these ladies at breakfast to greet our guest."

"Of course, your majesty," John and Henrik both bowed their heads, and I felt the king's stare sending cool beads of sweat down my back as I glared at him, refusing to show him any sign of respect at all.

"I want my scarab back," I spat, "it doesn't belong to you."

He gave me a smile that didn't reach his eyes and patted my head twice as he moved on, pausing and turning back around after taking a few steps and making a face that conveyed distaste as he looked back at how mud-covered and otherwise disheveled we both were.

"And please do clean them up. We don't want to appear like uncivilized beasts."

The condescension in the entire gesture of patting my head like I was an obedient pet made me see red and I tried to tear out of Henrik's grasp again so that I could launch myself at the king, intending to send that pretty crown rolling down the hall.

"Ouch, easy," he hissed quietly, still restraining me, "knock it off before you get us both killed."

"I'm not interested in getting you killed, I'm interested in killing _him,_" I snarled, and the king turned as he heard me. 

"Think long and think hard about your next words," he threatened, "I cannot promise you they won't be your last."

"Fuck. You." 

That polite smile crossed his face again, and I was floored once more by just how different he was than the actual king - a hollow shell to be sure, absent of the fire, the raw passion that consumed the other, the fervor he felt for the fulfillment of his position and the safely of his people. 

"Breakfast is at nine."

And without another word, he strolled off down the hall, his seemingly calm gate just a little too forced to be authentic. 

John and Henrik practically dragged us down the rest of the hall to the wing where we'd originally been housed and into our room. Tim, Jonas, and Johannes were all waiting there, hiding in the shadows until they realized it was just us, and stepping forward when the heavy door boomed shut behind John and he threw the lock.

Henrik immediately let me go, running both hands over his disheveled hair and stepping around to my front.

"_That _was fucking stupid."

"Excuse me? This was your fucking idea!"

"You're going to make this way worse for yourself if you keep mouthing off to everyone you come into contact with!"

"Okay," I said snarkily, stepping back and clasping my hands together over my chest, "you're right, Henrik, please, teach me so I can be a more proper, demure woman."

"That's enough from both of you," the king stepped in, looking to Henrik first, "she's doing the best she can with the information she has, which isn't much by the looks of it."

He turned to me next.

"And you. You comport yourself as if you don't give a shit and like you're unique in that, but I've met hundreds of people like you before, Meredith. And I will meet hundreds more when you leave this place."

He guessed my name and got it wrong just like his facsimile had, but I didn't bother correcting him, even as he stepped closer and looked down at me. Not in a domineering or demanding way, but something more parental as he touched the dried blood on my neck, his tone and his expression softening.

"We can all get out of this alive, but its going to take cooperation and trust."

"What the fuck is even happening!" I yelled, losing my patience with this cryptic nonsense they all seemed to insist on constantly exchanging, "we were outside! We were free! Why didn't we just leave?!"

He drew himself up to his full height and his face became a stormy mask of displeasure and frustration as he addressed me in a booming tone that even made my companions shiver.

"SILENCE. I am the crowned king of this country by birthright. This is _my _land. My father ruled before me, and his father before him, going back that way for a dozen generations or more. You will address me by my name or by my title. You are _not _my subject. You are _not _my friend. You know _nothing _of me or my court, and a little respect would go a long way in a situation like this, young lady."

"Young la--" 

"Apologies, your majesty, just one moment, please," Kiya's hand clapped over my mouth and she pulled me away from him.

"What the hell are you doing," she hissed, gripping me by both shoulders in a show of force I'd never seen her display before, "you have the actual ruler of this godforsaken place right in front of you and you aren't even bothering to ask him questions! He may have the exact solution to get us the fuck out of here, and you're pissing him off by being mouthy!"

"I am _not _being mouthy!"

"Mer," she pinched the bridge of her nose, taking a deep, steadying breath, and then looking me in the eye, leveling with me, "Mer, please. I want to live. I want to find the temple and worship at the altar of Ma'at. I want to go home and marry a good man and have children and teach them to pay homage to the gods, as my mother taught me. I don't want to die here..."

I huffed and looked away, but she grabbed my chin between her thumb and pointer finger, forcing me to look at her again.

"You do _not _have all the answers. Not this time."

She was typically so soft spoken with me, I was surprised by her forcefulness.

"Kiya, I--" I choked on my words and swallowed hard, fighting the lump in my throat. 

She wanted things in life.  
She had beautiful, strong hope.   
A belief that things were happening just as the gods willed them to happen.

I sighed and gripped her face between my palms, holding her gaze with mine.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I _will _get you out of this. I will get you to that temple, and I will get you to that altar, so fucking help me god."

She nodded and I took a deep breath, turning and walking back to the king, looking towards the floor as I swallowed my pride and spoke.

"I apologize for the rudeness of my behavior...uhm, sir. This whole situation seems unreal, but I understand that maybe I don't have all the answers and can't be completely self-reliant right now."

I only just resisted the urge to grumble under my breath while the king waited to see if there was more, then paused a moment before he spoke as all the eyes in the room rested on the two of us.

"Look at me, child."

I suspected that we were close to the same age, but I found that somehow, when I decided to put my trust in him, it didn't bother me in the slightest that he addressed me like one of his subjects, like he was the parent and I was the youth entrusted to him. 

My head raised until we were looking at each other eye to eye. 

"I will see you through this. Both of you," he looked at Kiya and nodded, "but you must listen to me. You must trust that what I tell you is the truth, no matter how fantastical it seems. And in turn you must be truthful with me."

Kiya and I both nodded and the dynamic in the room seemed to soften, like everyone let out the collective breath they were holding. 

"Sir, the other king wants them bathed and presentable for breakfast with him at nine," Henrik added, glancing at the wall clock, "we probably need to hurry this along."

"Right, thank you," the king looked back to us, "ladies, I'm afraid we are short on time, so I will explain what I can while you bathe."

"No. Uh-uh," I shook my head. 

King or not, he wasn't about to get his rocks off watching us wash under the guise of telling us something he could likely explain in the time it took us to actually get the water hot. 

"Meredith," he snapped, again misusing my name, "I would appreciate if you could simply accept that I am able to prioritize you living through this situation over any carnal desire that would be cheaply fulfilled by watching you bathe."

That seemed to be the end of any discussion regarding the matter, and he herded us to the bathroom, sliding a simple chair against the wall and sitting down.

"MerNeith," I finally corrected him. 

"Come again?"

"My name. Its not Meredith, its MerNeith, and you - out, now," I shot Tim an exasperated glare as he looked like he was thinking about staying too, and I pointed towards the door.

He smirked, taking one last look at me, still fully clothed and filthy, before shutting the door with a click. 

"If I catch one of those eyes open, you being a king won't matter," I warned, shielding Kiya as she stripped and stepped into the shower, groaning under the hot water.

"Gods, woman, are you always so persistently aggressive?" Jonas sighed, shaking his head though his eyes did remain closed, true to his word. 

"Its part of my charm," I rolled my eyes and stripped too, stepping in after Kiya. We were gonna have to share and make this quick. The water swirled brown with the mud rinsing off our skin and out of our hair. The burlap hoods had served their purpose to prevent us from seeing where we were going, but they hadn't offered much in the way of protection against the elements. 

"Oh, come here," I stifled a laugh as Kiya started to whine frustratedly with the mud tangled through her golden locks, and she turned so I could rub the dirt away.

"There should be shampoo, conditioner, and soap in there," he called just as I was searching the floor for the right bottle. 

"Got it, thank you. So, who is coming to breakfast and why does he scare the shit out of everyone?" I felt like this was the hundredth time I'd inquired about our mystery guest, "and why are there two of you? And why is the other one such a dick?"

"I can only really venture a guess, of course, having spent the last two weeks in a cell, but I would assume its him coming - Actaeon. He's the root of all this mess and--"

He didn't have time to avert his eyes as I shot out of the shower and slid across the bathroom floor, dripping muddy suds across his fancy hand-painted tiles until I came to an abrupt halt in front of him, looking angry and shocked and confused and probably a hundred other emotions at least. 

"What the fuck did you just say?? Did you just say Actaeon? Tallis Actaeon?? Because that's not possible. He's dead."

His cerulean eyes all but disappeared as they narrowed and he cocked his head to the side. 

"How do you know ab--"

"Woah, FUCK!" I took a step and slipped, crashing to the floor and landing on my ass hard, flailing as I tried to get up but only kept sliding. 

"By all the gods," he muttered exasperatedly, standing and hauling me up with an iron-like grip around my bicep until I had my feet under me, and then all but shoving me back into the shower, where Kiya was standing frozen. 

"Finish up," he commanded, before turning on his heel and striding out, the slam of the door the only other indication of the chill running down his spine at my recognition of the name. 

"Its not possible," I shook my head at her, rubbing a sore spot on my hip from where I'd hit the floor, "what am I missing? I thought Henrik just poached the idea from my journal and was using it as a scare tactic, but..."

I shook my head again and didn't wait for her to answer me.

"No," I dried off and wrapped the towel around myself as my mind reeled, "not fucking possible."

The wall clock chimed eight o'clock and I groaned, turning to toss Kiya the other towel, and finally meeting her concerned, silent stare. 

"He's dead!" I said again, like I needed to convince both of us, "I watched the needle go into his arm, Kiya. I was there!"

"I know. Shh shh, come, lets go get dressed, okay? We need more information."

All five men were huddled together talking lowly as we snuck out of the bathroom, the wafting waves of fragrant steam giving away our presence and bringing an abrupt pause to their conversation.

I chewed at my lip and wound the cotton sheet tighter around me as I felt his stare tracing the thick pink line of my scar that ran diagonally down across one shoulderblade and disappeared under my towel. It was a nasty memento that quite literally forced me to take a piece of him everywhere I went. 

"Eyes to yourself," I barked over my shoulder when it finally started to make me feel uncomfortable. 

"Ehm..." Kiya made a face as she held up a pair of shorts, "this might be all we have...is this okay? Wait what am I saying? Who the fuck cares?" she shook her head to herself, drawing a mirthless snort of laughter from the king. 

"Doesn't matter. Anything you have will be fine."

"Dress," I reminded, tossing her the gauzy material and searching for my own. We'd both brought them for if we found the temple, but had left them behind on the bed in a rumpled heap with the rest of our unnecessary garments in our haste to get the fuck out with one pack.

"I can't fight in this," she whispered to me from the other side of the mattress.

"Can you run in it?"

She shrugged then nodded and I shrugged back. 

That may be as good as she was going to get, because as much as I adored her, I also readily accepted that she wasn't anywhere close to skilled enough to take on any of our captors, even as bumbling and disorganized as they seemed. 

We grabbed our clothes and shuffled back to the bathroom, shimmying into underthings and settling our dresses over them, like we were getting ready for some absurd double date. 

"This is ridiculous, I'm putting shorts on," I grumbled, turning for the door. 

"No! It'll only make him angry if I show up in a dress and you don't. They looked through our bags, Mer, they know you brought that."

"You know what? Then I say we just sneak out and fucking bolt," I whispered, tugging at the material of my dress to sit more naturally across my breasts. The added attention from Tim was already making me jumpy without putting my tits on display, "if he's in the hall at 9 waiting for us, he won't be in his room. I can grab my scarab and we'll just get the f--"

"Or, you could just trust someone to help you when they say they're going to," Tim added from the doorway, sporting an unimpressed expression at my feeble escape plan that slowly shifted into something else as he took a moment to admire me in my dress. 

I'd only bought it at Kiya's insistence. I didn't believe in Ma'at. Or Sekhmet. Or Ra, or any of the gods of the pantheon that she so fervently worshiped. To me, they were just memories of my mother, stories from a childhood book, but they didn't hold the flesh and blood reality that they did for her. 

But I'd promised I'd go with her when she declared she was going to go wandering in the fucking Nordic woods to find the place. The Temple of Ma'at. It was spoken of with whispers, like it was only a legend, and I wasn't even truly convinced it existed at all, but Kiya had received the same wisdom from her mother that she'd received from hers, going back generations. 

_It is found only by those who truly believe it can be._

Well we'd done a dandy job of that...

I clamped my lips shut over a rude retort and just glared at Tim before following Kiya out of the doorway. 

His hand caught my arm and he stopped me, leaning in to whisper lowly into my ear while someone also simultaneously inhaling the scent of whatever froofy soap his king provided for guests, "listen to my king. We won't let anything bad happen to you again...I won't."

I wanted to bash my head against the doorframe as the shiver that coursed through me was clearly felt by the both of us. 

"Tim, you don't know me. And I certainly don't know you, so I think--"

"Well, you're not wrong," he interrupted, completely cutting me off, but letting that smirk toy with the corner of his mouth, "but the way you just shivered for me makes me think you want to, don't you..."

I wasn't sure if he was trying to distract me from the name and face that continued to roll cyclically through my brain, or if he really meant it, but he was getting too close either way.

"I don't happen to find audacity attractive and its not a good look on you anyways," I unceremoniously yanked my arm from his grip and joined Kiya near the king, making up my mind to just ignore Tim because the truth of the matter was that I badly wanted to do the exact opposite. 

He was right. 

He fascinated me and drew me in in a way I didn't expect or understand. 

Leave it, Mer. You're going to get yourself killed because of that guy. And for what? 

"How do you know Tallis Actaeon," he immediately launched into the inquisition, motioning silently to Henrik, who started dragging a comb through my hair. 

"Ah, hey! I can do that myself!"

"Can you just not push back on one thing? Please? Just one time?"

Johannes and John snickered quietly at my frustrated growl, but I let him continue and turned back to the king, starting to feel fed up and pissed off and cornered. 

"Its none of your business. And it doesn't matter anyways because he's dead! I don't know why that seems to suddenly be up for debate. He died by lethal injection. I was there, I watched him go."

He stared at me for several moments, evaluating and sitting back on his hips, crossing one leg over the other and rubbing a finger over his lips absentmindedly. 

"You watched him die?"

We were _not _getting into this.

I only nodded.

"Why would you doubt that everything is not as it seems after what you've seen here thus far, MerNeith," he snapped, losing his patience in response to my stiffness, "I do not have an answer as to why you understand him to be dead, but I am telling you, the one who has caused all of this is the same man of whom you speak. Its not a name I'll likely ever forget..."

You and me both...

Henrik's fingers started working expertly through my hair, weaving and twisting, and I ignored Tim when he moved beside him to murmur something lowly about him needing to go shave if he was going to go with us. It had been a dead giveaway to John and he was lucky to have escaped the king's notice the first time. 

Another set of fingers took over as Henrik sighed and shuffled off to go shower.

I could almost hear the pleasured groan as he stepped under the hot water. 

"This is a nice shade of green," he said quietly just as I was considering yanking my hair out of his hands. 

"Thanks," I responded flatly, just letting him finish. Having it out of my way would only be an added benefit for whatever encounter was coming with breakfast. 

"So...so...say you're right and we're talking about the same person..." I glanced at Johannes and made the same motion with my finger that the other Henrik had made to me on the balcony. It started at my hairline and went diagonally down my face. 

His near violent shudder told me that we were indeed discussing the same nightmare of a man.

What that fuck.

"Okay...so the doubles...how? And why?"

"As you may have noticed dear, we're rather, ah, off the map here, in some ways...but he just showed up one day requesting an audience with me. He was perfectly civil and polite, and I remember rather liking him at first..."

"Weird looking fucker though," Henrik added, emerging from the bathroom patting his face with a towel. I had an absurd urge to run my fingers back through his hair as his curls air dried, hanging heavily down over his bare shoulders, and he glanced at the door, "I'm gonna go change into something more...formal."

"John, go with him. You'll be accompanying these ladies and watching them, so you need to clean up and blend in as well."

"Sir," John inclined his head and made a half-bow as both men made for the door.

Tim took John's seat between me and Johannes after locking the door once more, and I resumed my ignoring, though I found myself almost electrically aware of him, like he gave off a heat signature that I was automatically tuned to pick up on.

"What did he--"

My question was interrupted by someone trying the doorknob, failing to get inside the locked room, but the jangling of keys announced their impending entry. 

Tim, Johannes, and the king were on their feet and out of sight in a flash, the latter giving Kiya a reassuring nod when she looked at him with panic in her eyes. 

"Get behind me," I grabbed her arm and moved her behind my body, putting myself between her and whoever was turning the key in the lock. 

It turned out to be Tim, and my mind reeled with the duality as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him.

How could I be so drawn to one and feel such a consuming sense of repulsion for the other who looked exactly like him but was clearly his opposite?

I had to admit that he cleaned up nicely though, his hair pulled back off his high forehead, cheeks freshly shaven and the ends of his mustache waxed and curled. I expected he had a nasty headache still from the way he blinked uncomfortably at the daylight streaming through the french doors.

He whistled lowly through his teeth at me as he looked me up and down slowly and I bristled in response. 

"Where are John and Henrik."

"I killed them."

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes snapped up to mine. 

"Where. Are they."

"Getting changed probably, how the fuck should I know, I'm not their keeper. They dropped us off here and told us to clean up and wear something nice!"

"You know, I am so fucking tired of your mouth. And if you know whats good for you you'll shut the fuck up, and maybe he'll make it quick when he does us all a favor and kills you."

He swept up to me and I pushed Kiya several steps further back away from me towards the glass doors, wishing I'd had the presence of mind to grab something heavy before he unlocked the door. 

"But maybe before that, we'll see just what else that mouth can do," he gripped my face hard with one hand, snaring both my wrists in front of me with the other as I made to strike him.

"Give me the opportunity to kill you and I'm gonna fucking take it," he snarled as I tried to bite his hand, but he didn't get that opportunity, or any other for that matter as the other Tim moved silently behind him, willing me to keep him distracted for one more moment. 

He unsheathed the knife at the other's hip like lightning, pressing the very tip against his neck. 

"You shouldn't have touched her," he said lowly, suddenly shoving the knife forward and slitting the other's throat. 

But the same thing happened. 

There was no blood. There was no body. 

Just a single long chestnut hair, floating like a strand of silk towards the floor. 

"I've fucking had it with this place," I screamed as I stormed towards the door, seeing red and feeling hellbent on just getting my hands around the king's neck. 

"Stop, sweetheart, stop stop stop," Tim blocked my way, arms spread out across the doorway.

"Get out of my fucking way," I snarled, moving to take him out with one sweep, but he blocked me in midair reflexively, forcing my to use my other hand, trying to flip him on his back. 

"I said _stop_," he growled, overpowering me and dropping me to the floor. It wasn't graceful by any means, but he pinned both arms above my head to the cool stone floor and leaned in until his face was an inch from mine. 

"Stop," he whispered softly, "I'm coming with you."

"I didn't need your help, nothing was going to happen, I had that completely under control," I snapped, annoyingly aware that I was having to fight not to close the distance between us and taste him.

"Stop fighting me, MerNeith..." it was all he said in response, but I could almost feel the way my pupils exploded at the sound of his voice saying my name as my stomach dropped into the floor underneath my spine.

We stared at each other for several quiet seconds and his eyes flicked down to my lips for the briefest second. 

"Ah _ahem_," the king clearing his throat startled us out of our moment, and I all but threw him off of me, getting to my feet in less than a second in a defensive posture like he was going to hurt me, though my rational brain knew he wasn't that king. 

"Easy, dear," he put his hands up in a calming motion as he approached me, drawing me up with both hands gripping my shoulders to stand straight and speaking softly, but there was iron in his gaze, "you fight like a trained professional. And you know the man who has caused such disorder in my kingdom. I do believe it is you who now owes me answers, and I _will _have them..."


	10. Chapter 10

My fight or flight kicked in as the king stared me down with a no-nonsense, no quarter look on his face, and an immediate bolt of anxiety and fear shot through my body like an electric shock, sending me tearing towards and ultimately out of the door in under five seconds as my subconscious chose flight without giving me a heads up.

"No!" the king yelled, about to tell Tim to go after me, but he was gone in a whirl of chestnut hair before the words even left his sovereign's lips, his feet moving an instant after mine. 

"Come back in here!" he hissed, but his sharp eyes had already caught movement at the corner of his vision, and he did his best to roll with it, snatching my wrists and backing me up into the wall so hard my teeth clicked together.

"Fuck, I didn't want it to be like this, but please just trust me," he whispered quickly, then let go of my wrists to grip my face with both hands, pressing his thumbs over top of my lips to keep them separate from his as he crushed me into an almost-kiss that sent my sanity tearing in a thousand different directions. It was forceful and rough, the pads of his thumbs pressing against my mouth with bruising force as his hips pinned me to the wall with a low growl rumbling in his throat. 

I only had the barest presence of mind to struggle against him after a moment as I heard boots on the polished floor approaching us, followed by the same pleasant baritone I'd just bolted from.

"Ah ahem."

Gods, they even did that annoyingly dominant throat clearing thing in the same way.

"Sir, please help me!" I gasped, tearing my face from Tim's grip. His touch was heady and addicting and his heat lingered on my skin in a way that made my struggle real in a way.

"You shut your fucking mouth," Tim barked at me, turning to the other king and thinking on the fly, "I caught her attempting to escape again, sire, and she was trying to persuade me into letting her go by offering herself to me!"

"Yes, and I can see you're doing a flawless job of resisting, Tim," he rolled his eyes as he knocked Tim roughly out of the way and wrapped his hand around my throat as he swept up to me.

"I tire of you, Meredith. You don't belong here, and now you've gotten yourself into trouble by not being careful. And as you seem so hellbent on getting it back, even to the point of threatening my life, I suspect that he'll find this trinket to be particularly...intriguing..." he opened his opposite hand at an angle that I had to strain my eyes downward to see what he held. 

But my vision exploded and I struggled against his hold as I caught sight of my mother's necklace laying across his palm, the green thread woven between his fingers. 

"Are you still causing trouble you idiot girl? What are you doing out here?" Henrik approached from down the hall followed by John, both wearing stormy expressions that barely hid their concern. 

"Ah, gentlemen are you joining us after all then," the king huffed an exasperated sigh, releasing my throat with one more punishing glare and turning to the others, examining them closely, looking for imperfections. 

"Apologies, sir. We'll have her in the Hall by nine, sire," John bowed, the whole motion somewhat forced and stiff. 

"The other one as well."

"Of course, my king, Kiya as well," Henrik followed suit, and I hoped like hell no one but me saw his lip curl up into a snarl of displeasure as his face looked down at the floor. 

The king turned and strode down the hall, disappearing into an alcove that I assumed was a flight of stairs.

_Down, not up._

"You're a fucking piece of work," Tim hissed, gripping my arm and yanking me back towards him as Henrik and John disappeared into the room and called for the others to come out of whatever shadow they'd slunk into with the sounds of the altercation outside.

He stepped closer to me, still holding me tight by the arm, but letting his eyes slip down to my lips as his voice dropped lower, "I need to shower, can you please not get into trouble for ten minutes? Because saving your life is getting exhausting."

My palm itched to slap him.

"Fuck off, I don't need your help."

His grip on my arm became punishing to the point that I winced and knew I was going to have bruises as his mouth split into a displeased snarl.

"The proper response is 'thank you, Tim, for risking your ass to save me _again'. _And you know what? The truth of the matter is that you _do _need my help but you're too fucking proud to admit it," he stepped closer, somehow looming over me though we were the same height, "so stop being self-righteous for five minutes, and maybe we'll actually get out of this alive and get a chance to do something about the way you just kissed me back."

Without another word he yanked me into the guest suite and slammed the heavy door shut behind him, giving me one more long glare before stalking off to the bathroom, his shoulders rigid with annoyance and frustration.

I found my fingers touching my lips as I stared out the window at the ocean, trying to convince myself to stay as far the fuck away from his as possible, to hate him so it would all be easier and less complicated.

As soon as I got my scarab and proved to everyone that Actaeon was in fact dead, we were going to be promptly getting the fuck out of this place and never looking back. 

Within the hour hopefully, he'd be well on his way to becoming nothing more than a complicated memory.

"I am not fond of repeating myself," the king said casually from my left after several long minutes of silence as the sound of the shower cut out in the background, "but I do need answers from you."

I chewed my lip but stayed silent, glancing at the clock on the wall until the king continued.

"I apologize for coming off as strongly as I did, my intention was not to scare you into talking to me. I simply cannot take this any longer," he turned me by the shoulders to face him, "this creature has taken my kingdom from me. He uses foul magic, as you've already seen, and wants what does not belong to him..."

"He's...he's someone from my past," I muttered, looking away from them both, and a hand on my shoulder from behind drew my attention.

"Everyone has a past. Someday, this will be in our past too. But right now, its our present. And its a fucking nightmare, and this guy Actaeon is the cause. Yes, I know, 'he's dead', we've all heard you like a thousand times," Johannes groaned, silencing me with one hand, "except that he isn't. And you're going to find that out, so the sooner you tell us what you know, the sooner we can get a plan together to put an end to this shit."

He was clearly getting fed up with the dramatics. 

"Why is he even interested in you?!" I yelled, raking my hands back over my hair, "no offense, but you're off the fucking map out here, Stilts! So unless you have giant gold mines you've managed to hide from the world--"

"Not gold," the king shook his head, drawing my attention.

"What then, tech? Drugs? Ultra secret WMDs?"

"The temple," he snapped, "he wants something in the temple."

Kiya gasped and rocketed to her feet, starting to pace back and forth the way she always did when she was nervous, "how would he even know the temple exists? That can't be it..."

"It is. Its why he requested an audience in the first place - he tried to find it for himself and couldn't."

I turned to Kiya with a bewildered expression, "do you have any idea whats in that place?"

She raked both hands through her hair, wracking her brain to remember every word her mother and grandmother had passed on to her. Nothing was written down, of course, lest it fall into the wrong hands...

I glanced at John and Henrik, both of who were chewing their lips and looking concerned.

"You still have not told me how you know of him," the king reminded.

"You haven't even told me your name," I countered, aware that it was a childish retort, but I was doing my best to steer the conversation anywhere else but where it was heading. 

He took a deep breath, like it was instilling him with just enough patience to deal with me for another minute. 

"Quite right..." he swept into a low bow, taking my hand and pressing his forehead to my knuckles in a move that was undeniably graceful and quashed any lingering doubts I had about whether or not he was actual royalty. 

Fucking hell.

"My name is Jonas. Avatar Country is my home. It is my kingdom. These people are my citizens, but beyond that, they are my family. My responsibility. And I have already failed them once by letting Actaeon into my palace, however well-intentioned he seemed at the time..."

"Yeah well...he's...he was..." I blinked and it was my turn to take a deep breath, "vicious. He's vicious. An animal."

"Elaborate," he gave me no choice this time, "because the longer you hold onto whatever secret is behind those teeth, the greater danger you're putting us in."

The muscle in my jaw ticked, but Kiya turned me by the shoulders to look at her, deep concern welling in her lovely brown eyes, but also an honest facing of the truth, of what was needed. 

"You need to tell them, Mer. It won't bring them back, but it might help us...you know..."

"Kill him?"

I couldn't deny that the prospect made my mouth water a little. 

He'd been kept from me by the court system, always too far away for me to touch as I sat in the back of the gallery, watching the prosecutor execute her job with a merciless brutality, eviscerating him as much with her words as I'd wished I could do with my hands. 

Henrik's head cocked to the side as he watched my thoughts pass over my face. 

"Who the fuck is this guy to you?" he asked quietly, repeating the same question they'd all wanted to know, but it was tinged with anxiety now, a nervousness that colored his tone and showed on his face when I glanced up at him. 

"He..." I swallowed hard, realizing that my hands we shaking and grasping them tight in front of me, "its personal. And it was a long time ago."

_Names and faces._

Tim emerged from the bathroom wearing half his court uniform, the whole thing too uncomfortable and dirty to even think about donning after two weeks in a cell. 

"Look, if you think we give a shit about you or your personal life, you're wrong," he snapped, combing his fingers roughly through his hair over his shoulder before it dried into a hundred impossible knots, "but right now, you need to just suck it up and fucking spill whatever you're not telling us."

My ears started to ring and I worked to take steady, even breaths as we stared at each other until I walked the five steps to cover the distance inbetween us. 

"You want my answer? FINE. Tallis Actaeon broke into my house in the middle of the night. He killed my mother with a buck knife at the foot of the stairs, and then came upstairs and killed my father. He killed both of my brothers, and that lovely scar you were staring at? Yeah. That was him too. I'm only here because he thought I was already dead."

Tim's entire demeanor changed as I spoke, his face immediately showing his regret, but I couldn't stop, like once I'd opened the faucet, my words just flooded out. 

"I woke up in an orphanage. Well, the hospital wing of an orphanage. Catholic," I clarified, reaching under my dress for my crucifix. 

I didn't believe in that god either, but I'd worn it so long, it felt as much a part of me as my mother's scarab.

"An orphanage? Wh--how old--"

"Six. Reseph was eight and Ahmose was ten."

I was surprised at how evenly everything came out, because other than Kiya, I'd never had the experience of recounting the tale to anyone. I truly hadn't known what to expect.

"My upbringing after that was...unconventional," I snorted a mirthless laugh at my own choice of words. My mother's style of parenting was unconventional by some standards too.

"You don't know this, and I don't really know if anyone does, but there are orders outside the church proper. Ones not really, ah, recognized by the Holy See. They believe basically the same tenets of faith. The catechism, mass is the same, bla bla bla, but they're more...martial. Bigger on physical education for women, because we don't seem to get it anywhere fucking else--"

"Christ is that where you learned to fight? In a fucking orphanage?! Because you almost had me on my ass back there a minute ago..."

I huffed an exasperated sigh, but nodded, unsure how I felt about bearing my truth to a stranger I found myself weirdly in like with. 

He stared at me and somehow I knew exactly what the look on his face indicated he was about to do, so I swiftly turned my back to him and looked for the king, who was standing next to Kiya, right where I'd left him a minute before. 

"No one adopted me, obviously, which was fine, because I would be lying if I said I didn't sabotage all my chances--"

Henrik snorted a laugh, and I glanced at him with a hint of a smile. It wasn't that funny, but I was glad he wasn't being all somber about it. That shit just made me uncomfortable.

"When I was old enough to leave, I started looking for him. His face was b--_is _burned into my brain. I'll never be able to forget it. But when I finally found him, it was because I saw his face on TV. He'd gotten arrested for doing something fucking stupid, breaking into a Hindu temple or something and murdering someone else. They said he was delusional. Schizzo, or insane, or manic depressive. They never really settled on a diagnosis."

"What, in America? He got the death penalty, then?" the king asked, both blonde eyebrows raised.

"Yup. Stuck the needle right here," I touched the place on my arm where I'd watched the IV pierce his pale skin, "and just like that -- justice served," I scoffed.

The five men exchanged an uncomfortable series of glances.

"Look, I don't know how much time you spend in America, but capital punishment isn't something they routinely screw up. The motherfucker was flatlined. The bastards love the spectacle too much for that. Nothing better than executing your own civilians, eh?" 

I was starting to become hysterical, the recounting of my most severe trauma finally catching up with me and manifesting as me scratching at my arms and laughing somewhat maniacally, shifting back and forth on my feet.

"Hey," Tim touched my arm softly, putting an abrupt stop to my babbling as he crossed around to my front, putting himself between me and the king. 

I clamped my lips shut, lest more of my past sneak into the present. 

"What do you need from me?"

My head tilted to the side and I completely missed Kiya turning her face into the king's shoulder behind Tim, hiding her giggles and girlish blush. I'd been hard as steel and unaffected by men for as long as she'd known me, and seeing me react to Tim this way was setting her insides on fire. 

"...sorry?"

"What do you need. From me. From all of us. To get through whatever the hell is about to happen in the great hall. I'm sorry, but we have to get going soon, we only have like five minutes," he glanced at the clock to confirm, "but...fuck, I'm so sorry," he choked on the words and suddenly his arms were wrapped around me, crushing me against him and I grimaced out of habit, stiffening at the sensation of contact.

"Its fine...I'm fine..."

"You're a fucking stubbornass," he didn't let me go, and slowly, so slowly, I let the awareness of his embrace creep into my consciousness, wondering if maybe what he'd said was right. 

Maybe I did need his help...

"I can't wrap my head around the idea that he's somehow not dead," I whispered, letting my arms snake around his waist, trying not to shiver at the sensation of his bare skin against my hands. 

"We'll be right there, okay? Nothing is going to happen to you," his breath was warm against my neck and his fingers dug into my skin with a little more gusto as he felt me shiver again.

"Tim whats going on...why is he here in the first place? Why and how does he just...copy you?"

"Ahem."

We jerked apart from each other again like we'd been caught in the act and an eerily similar repetition of the scene from earlier played out, the king putting his hands on my shoulders to calm me, and looking me straight into the eye. 

"He wants something in the Temple of Ma'at. He cannot find it on his own, as I'm sure you already know because one cannot find it unless they truly believe it exists..."

I nodded, and he praised me softly, moving his hands up to my cheeks, cupping them in a fond paternal way.

"That's good. I am bound to secrecy as much as the Temple priests, dear. I may speak of it to no one that does not already know of it, and even then, my divulgence of information is forbidden beyond basically acknowledging that it exists," he looked to Kiya off to the side.

"My ancestors have had this agreement with your people for many, many years. We exist alongside one another harmoniously, and there is no reason for that not to continue in perpetuity..."

"Of course, your majesty," she inclined her head graciously, "I am by no means in a position to speak on behalf of anyone collectively, but personally I am thankful for your protection of such a sacred site..."

He considered her for a moment, his hand working over his beard repeatedly as he let go of me. 

"You've not been, have you, dear..."

She blushed and looked at the floor.

"No, I haven't, sir."

"Well," he turned and tipped her chin up and gave her a warm, gentle smile, "when this is all said and done and I have my kingdom back, perhaps we shall go together, hmm?"

"I would like that very much, your majesty," she blushed perfectly, like a fucking rose, and I barely resisted rolling my eyes, though I couldn't deny that the tender interaction renewed the fire under my ass to finish this once and for all. 

If not for myself then for her. 

The clock chimed ominously and seemed to jolt us all back into reality. 

It was time. 

"Fuck," I started towards the door, and grabbed Kiya's hand, "promise me that no matter what happens you'll run if you get the chance," I begged her, squeezing her fingers tight.

"I'm with you to the end," was all she responded with at first, then stepped in front of me at the door, forcing me to look at her, "for Reseph. And Ahmose. And your mom and dad. For _you_, MerNeith."

I swallowed hard and nodded. 

Tim and John and Henrik fell into step with us as we left the king and Johannes behind, knowing their doubles were the only ones who remained, waiting for us in the great hall. 

I vaguely wondered as we walked what their plan was, and I found that I didn't know enough to guess, but I trusted them anyways. Perhaps he was hard when he was pushed and frustrated, this king...Jonas...but he was good. Leagues beyond his facsimile to be sure.

"Deep breaths," Tim reminded, off to my right, suddenly stopping and taking my hand to make me stop too as I snapped out of my internal wonderings. 

Everyone else continued for another step or two, glancing back at us when we remained frozen.

"Me too, Mer," he said quietly, quickly, and before I could stop it or know it, or even think about what I felt about it, he cupped my face with both hands, swiftly pressing his lips down over mine in a fierce, momentary kiss, pulling back after a split second of contact, "I'm with you too...gods, the thought of something bad happening to you beyond those doors is driving me almost as fucking insane as you are..."

He kissed me again, harder this time, with more fire and more passion behind it, though it remained brief and just a split-second caress of his lips against mine. 

Tim took me by the hand and my feet started moving forward again as my mind reeled, a slave to the sudden onslaught of sensation and powerlessness and simply the _want. _

We reached the doors and Henrik turned his back to them, looking at me and Kiya carefully, searching our gazes. 

With a reassuring nod from both of us, he closed his eyes, opening them a moment later with a furrowed brow, lapsing into character at he took Kiya's arm roughly, and Tim took my own, squeezing it tight and placing the other against my lower back as John opened the grand double doors and we were met with three waiting pairs of eyes, gazing at us intently...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woof.
> 
> EDIT: also realizing now that I forgot to make Tim finish getting dressed. He's not going half-naked to breakfast, so pretend he's got the other half of his uni on or something, okay? 🤪


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this happening? Am I about to wrap this shit up?  
Soon, bbs.

_NO! How the fucking hell is this happening!! NO NO NO NO NO!!!_

"I'm right here," he whispered only loud enough for me to hear. 

Tim's fingertips pressed hard into the small of my back then, a touch meant to reassure me as he felt my whole body shiver once. 

"If I have to tell you again to walk, I'm going to strap a leash on you for the rest of the day and fucking drag you," he snarled into my ear, putting on all the appropriate airs of being a total asshole. 

Henrik shoved Kiya forward as well until we were both face to face with the king, who was wearing a pleasant smile that only touched the lower regions of his face. His eyes looked empty and tired.

"Good morning, ladies, I trust you both slept well?"

"We did, thank you your majesty," Kiya piped up, inclining her head towards the copy of Jonas in a gracious way, obviously trying to give both of us a moment to gather our wits and read the room. 

Actaeon's gaze roamed over both of us as I mimicked her motion, showing the king the respect that I held none of, and I could feel it traveling across my skin, not in a lascivious or judgmental way, but something more like the practiced eye of an appraiser. 

"Good. Please, may I present Mr. Tallis Actaeon. Tallis, this is Kiya," he gestured to her, "and Meredith," a hand in my direction. 

Actaeon rose and bowed low in a graceful display of perfect manners no one as vicious as him should have held. 

Gods he was like a real life fucking Hannibal.

"Its a pleasure, ladies."

It had been years since I'd heard his voice, but it still sent the same surge of hatred through me. He'd had no last words to speak before they juiced him, and hadn't said but a few minor "yes, your honor," "no, your honor"s in court. 

But I would know the sound even blindfolded, spun around a hundred times, and doused with a bucket of cold water. 

Motherfucker. 

"Gents, you all remember each other as well?"

There was a brief back and forth of 'good to see you again's and 'thanks for coming' and 'my pleasure'. 

I had a lot of thoughts regarding 'my pleasure' as a response to 'thank you', but I figured now wasn't the time to get lost in my own head. 

Kiya and I exchanged an uncomfortable glance, both of us jumping at the sound of the doors opening at the far end of the hall behind us, clearly on edge and expecting the worst. 

I honestly hadn't anticipated there actually being food, but a flurry of servants darted here and there around the room like mice, pulling out the king's chair so he could take his place at the head of the table, and repeating the same for the rest of us along the sides, Actaeon taking his place at the opposite end. 

Jonas looked at me from under his crown at the other end of the table as I squirmed in my seat, glancing around to try and subtly take stock of my exit options. 

"Do I need to hedge my bets and tie you to that seat or are you going to actually stay for breakfast?"

"No sir, I'm just...admiring your castle," my lips formed the words that tasted like ash as I played my part, "honestly sir, we're just on break from school and got lost on a hike and will gladly go home and never speak of th--"

"Do you typically wear lots of jewelry on you, then...when you hike?"

I froze, completely paralyzed where I sat, unable to look at him or listen to him, or think of an answer to his question. An introduction had been one thing, but being deliberately addressed was rather another, and my stomach turned as I experienced an almost violent flashback. 

The boots on the stairs. 

_Brave, Mer. One...two...three..._

My tiny voice weeping for my mother, waking up in a hospital bed with strange faces surrounding me. 

_"She's with our Lord now, poor child, your family are together once more."_

This was it. 

A hand tangled into my hair and yanked my head up as I stared at my eggs, trying to get a grip on myself and silence the screams of the past, and Tim's voice sounded in my ear from behind as his other hand pressed against my spine, sliding between it and the solid cloth-covered seat back of my chair. 

"He asked you a question, Meredith," he hissed, subtly pressing a table knife into my hand pinned against my back, as my place setting had deliberately not included one, "you are in the presence of the king and his guest...remember who you are..."

My face rocked forward with a rough push as he pulled his fingers out of my hair, messing up my braid in the process, and took his seat, glaring menacingly at Kiya until she dropped her eyes to her food and picked up her fork, remembering that he had to do what he was doing, and was trying his best to keep us safe.

I did the same out of habit, finding that I was starving but also terrified that there was danger lurking in the food. 

Like some kind of fucked up movie plot where he would reveal we'd ingested large amounts of poison and the clock was ticking towards our demise unless we revealed whatever he wanted to know about the Temple as he twirled the antidote in a tiny vial between his fingers...whoever fessed up first got to live.

"_Say thank you and speak up_," Johannes snapped, startling me out of my thoughts as my head rocketed up and I realized I'd been addressed again. 

"I--I'm sorry, what?" I stammered.

"I said," Actaeon repeated slowly, like I was too dense to understand normally-paced English, "poisoning you will do no good for anyone, and the king has several fine cooks...please, relax and eat," Actaeon nodded towards my plate where I had been pushing everything around rather than taking any bites. 

The eggs needed salt, but I politely complimented the cooking anyways, drawing a tiny nod of approval from Henrik, who seemed to relax fractionally the longer I spent sitting in my chair and not hurtling myself at this man. 

"You mentioned that you were on break from school? Where were you hiking to?" he started his inquisition gently, like we were making casual table conversation as acquaintances.

"Fulufjället," Kiya filled in quickly when I didn't answer, and John snorted a laugh at her poor pronunciation, correcting her with a sneer. 

"Ah...and what exactly awaits two young ladies in such a place?"

He continued to press as Kiya wove our story from thin air, making every effort to be charming and polite and draw the conversation towards herself so I could unfuck my head as she spoke of the oldest tree in the world that lived in that park, and the waterfalls and plants. 

"You're a dendrology student then, Meredith?"

"What?" I blinked at him, coming up for air.

"Dendrology...no? I did suspect that was a lie too," he gave me a smile that wasn't really menacing, but it only unsettled me futher.

"Oh, uhm, we..." I looked at him again, and it dawned on me that he was actually seeking information. He wasn't trying to catch me in a lie because he knew the answer, he was actually trying to get to the truth...

He had no idea who I was. 

How would he? The last time he'd seen me I had only been six, and covered in blood to boot after slipping in the pool of it at the foot of the stairs. He hadn't even looked me in the eye as he'd struck, his knife slicing through the skin of my back, pulling a high-pitched shriek of pain from me and ultimately nothing more as he stepped over what he assumed was my corpse and slipped back into the night...

Tim furrowed his eyebrows at me as he watched...something? Some kind of understanding bloom across my face.

"No one hikes with schoolbooks, Meredith, and lying is ill advised in present company," the king reminded me sharply. 

I set my fork down hard on the side of my plate, meeting Actaeon's gaze which was unmistakably collected and cool.

"You really want to know where we were going," I glanced at the king and caught his gaze before deliberately forming the word, "asshole?"

"YOU WILL NOT--"

"Oh fucking STUFF IT, I know all about your little game," I glanced at Henrik and John quickly, though their faces remained perfect and confused, matching the room seamlessly. I wouldn't reveal them and put them in danger unless it was absolutely necessary.

"That's right," I rose, pushing my chair back until it clattered to the floor, and I watched Kiya pale out of the corner of my eye. 

"Now, love," I said lowly, but she didn't take my cue or run. 

She only jerked in her seat like she was trying to get up but couldn't.

"You are being disgustingly rude, Meredith," Actaeon said, his mouth turned down at the corners like he tasted something sour.

"My name," my eyes snapped to his and were a thousand degrees, burning with hatred and the kind of intensity you only get from dark obsession, "is _not _Meredith."

If I hadn't been so oddly attuned to him, I would have nearly missed Tim's subtle shiver at the tone of my voice as I crossed behind his chair and ran my fingertips along the backs of his shoulders, absurdly tempted to tug on his low ponytail playfully.

"My name," I continued towards Actaeon at the head of the table, never dropping his gaze, never letting up on my evaluation of his eyes, reading his plans through them, "is MerNeith. Named for the first female pharaoh. For the first woman to rule the old world in her own right..." he rose from his chair too, not looking away as I stopped, taking a somewhat defensive posture, "and I have been waiting a _long _time for this moment you motherfucking waste of carbon."

He looked me over differently now that I'd showed my hand, searching his memory as he searched my features. I gripped the table knife tighter, ready to throw it if I needed to, but not willing to forego my weapon just yet. 

"My, my..." he settled at my eyes once more and my stomach rolled under the mania his held as he put together who I must have been, "suppose I wasn't as thorough as I purported myself to be, eh?"

"Four out of five," I snarled.

"Yes. I remember. Your mother wailed like a fucking mourner. Gods, that woman could make a racket. She was kneeling at her alter, praying to her false gods when I found her..."

_False gods. _

_Noted._

Kiya thrashed in her seat violently like she was about to get up and run, but Johannes' shortblade materialized like smoke in his hand and the point toyed with her jugular. 

"Have you ever gotten a really, _really _good look at the color of your own blood, blondie?" he purred into her ear, scenting just behind the shell of it, his tongue flicking out to taste her terror, "its dark. Not red, like people think. Its black. Wanna see?" 

"Okay, no, fuck that," Henrik snarled, slinging his table knife by the hilt, sending it end over end in a rapid path of travel until it hit Johannes in the forehead across the table, sinking in and freezing the surprised look on his face as the corner of his open mouth twitched, and he dissolved into vapor, the telltale single hair floating down onto the seat of his chair.

Their cover now completely blown lest they decide to fight each other to maintain appearances, Tim and John shot out of their chairs too, but the king snatched Kiya up, making a disappointed face at them and shaking his head. 

"Tallis, I told you, you should have killed them when you had the--"

"Shut the _fuck _up," Actaeon snarled, never letting his gaze drop mine as we took one step at a time, mimicking each others movements, further and further away from the group, a twisted little waltz.

"You're all grown up, aren't you...I remember your face now. You know, they say you can't see through the glass when they bring all the spectators in to watch you die, but that's not actually true...its not one way glass, its clear. I saw you, and I saw you smile when they pushed the plungers..."

"I would watch you die a thousand times and not bat an eye because it would never be enough."

"Perhaps. But then that would make you an awful lot like me, wouldn't it..."

I hurled my knife at him, but he was quick and I was shit with knives anyways and it clanked harmlessly, skittering across the length of the floor. 

"You're putting in too much thought," he chastised, clucking his tongue at me twice, "you have to strike without thinking, MerNeith, you must be ruthless, and swift. Silence that mind."

"_MerNeith_," the king snarled, his mouth obviously still wanting to call me Meredith and only catching itself at the last minute. The struggle from the corner of my vision drew my attention as I glanced his way, and my blood ran cold as I watched the red trickle down Kiya's neck, ruining the fabric of her lovely dress. It was shallow and by no means a mortal wound, but I felt it like the knife was plunged between my own ribs as it danced menacingly over her skin.

"I don't know if you doubles can die slowly, but if you even fucking twitch again I swear to the gods we will fucking find out together."

"Your pagan gods are of no use to you here," Actaeon reminded, moving so that Jonas was on one side of me and he on the other, and I had to keep whipping my head back and forth to keep them both in sight, taking one step back at a time, trying to form a triangle of the three of us, rather than a straight line. 

"Its okay, MerNeith," Kiya said, her tone not at all frightened or wavering. 

My feet stopped as our gazes met, and she looked at me with those brown eyes the color of the great river. Her lips moved in silent prayer, though her stare still held my own for one more moment as she nodded.

"For Ahmose."

"Kiya, n--"

"And Reseph."

"Don't!"

"I love you, my sister."

"KIYA!"

With a bloodcurdling scream, she ducked and turned in the king's grasp, knowing it meant the end of her life but knowing equally that it would give me just the briefest moment of distraction to make my move. 

Based on the magic we'd both witnessed since we'd gotten here, she knew as well as I did that surprise was going to be my only upper hand. 

The commotion caused by her sudden outburst plus Tim, John, and Henrik all rushing the false king together gave me a split second advantage. 

By the time he saw me coming, it was already too late, and the table knife I'd already snuck by the time Tim slipped me his too materialized in my hand out of the folds of my dress, aimed for his heart like they were magnets, drawn together and always destined to meet. 

He summoned a counter current of air that hit me in the stomach like a fist, throwing me back, but I could feel the beat of his heart pulsing into the hilt of my weapon, and I closed my fist to hold onto that sensation even as I went sailing through the air to land ten feet away and skid across the floor on my back, the wind knocked from my lungs. 

The king was gone, doubtless taken out by Kiya, or perhaps one of the men who had been dying to do so since they'd found out about the doubles. 

I didn't even bother to look at Actaeon's body - as soon as I could move I crawled towards Kiya, trying to draw in a breath but taking small stuttering gasps as my diaphragm remembered how it was supposed to work. 

Tim was there in the next second, hauling me to my feet and trying to hold me up as I stumbled and tripped over the hem of my dress. The noise that came from my throat was garbled and choked as I threw him off and collapsed next to Kiya's body, pressing my hand over the deep knife wound in her torso like if I could stop the bleeding she'd come back. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Henrik whispered, trying to pull me away as the tremors wracked my body, but no tears came and I clutched her tighter.

"All she wanted was to get to the fucking TEMPLE!!!" I screamed, venting my hatred and the frustration that felt like it was burning me alive. 

The sounds of the fight had traveled down the hallway, but it was my heartwrenching cries of pain as I pulled her lifeless form up against me that finally drew Jonas and Johannes, running and exploding into the hall, immediately assessing, looking for danger and finding none. 

"NO!" Jonas dropped to his knees next to me, touching Kiya's stilled pulse points before getting to his feet and roaring his frustration in a tone half made me shiver and half made me want to join him. 

"As I said...false gods..." his voice was raspy, like a death rattle, as he got to his feet, brushing off his clothes like he'd only taken a quick fall and eyeing the knife in his chest before removing it with a sound that made me cringe.

I think all six of us snarled at the same time, but I was the one who saw red, and found myself thanking whatever gods were out there, false or no, that I got another chance to kill him. 

This was it. 

My eternity. 

I'd take his life, he'd get it back, and I would snuff it out again. 

Gods but what more could I even want. 

The doors burst open again, startling all of us and momentarily interrupting my dramatic pace that was closing the distance between me and my target. 

He was dressed in a simple, starched white tunic, belted at the waist, his feet sandaled, and otherwise he was normal and unremarkable. Dark hair, tan skin, tall and at least moderately well-muscled. 

I didn't get a closer look because he turned his back to me, to all of us, and addressed the aggressor in the room, to everyone's surprise.

"Why do you seek to harm those who do no harm to you."

One of Actaeon's eyes twitched at the corner, like he hated being spoken to that way, but he took a moment to assess the young man before him, eyeing his garb and his amulets, processing the suddenness of his arrival...

"So it does exist...your Mistress was unwise to send you here."

"My Mistress is wisdom itself, and knows no other."

"And yet she sends you, a mere boy, to challenge the highest servant of the Divine Contest."

Divine Contest?

Holy shit. 

Of course. 

My brain felt like it was full of concrete, but slowly the logic worked its way through the hardening sludge. 

My mother, and the rest of us as collateral damage. Servant of the ancients. 

The guy he'd killed in the Hindu temple that got him caught the last time. Servant and caretaker of his own gods. 

_False gods._

Who knew how many others along the way he'd slaughtered because they didn't see religion the same way he did? 

"Your masters seek to be the only forces of power over humans. That has never been the way of the world, nor will it ever be."

"There will be more like me. Hundreds. Thousands."

"Will they murder innocent women and children as well, Tallis?"

His eye twitched again and his gaze wandered over to me. 

"Perhaps only three out of five, then, MerNeith..."

The newcomer whipped around so fast, I thought he was going to fall over, but he stayed on his feet as he stared at me and my mind shattered.

_NO. _

_NO NO NO NO NO._

"No," I whispered, taking a step back, ducking behind Henrik's shoulder as he put a defensive arm out across the front of my waist, not liking the way this stranger was affecting me. 

Three out of five.

The six of us saw him move at the same time, obviously having no qualms about literally stabbing someone in the back, and our mouths all opened to yell our warnings.

But it was useless as it turned out. 

The priest's eyes glowed gold, the irises like liquid metal, and he spun again, his arms flying out from his sides, something that looked so much like phantom wings hanging from each. 

"Your time of harming the innocent is over," his voice was louder, more powerful, filling the room with ease.

"Innocent!" Actaeon spat, not shying away, though he took a moment to look over the changes in the man before him, "no one is innocent. We're all tainted and deserving of damnation!"

"Perhaps some more than others, wouldn't you say..."

He had to know what was going to happen, but he launched himself towards the younger man anyways, knife aimed for his ribs.

The sound of the priest's hands clapping together in front of him was like thunder, and indeed it shook the floor beneath our feet with tremors, knocking me back hard into Johannes, who stretched his hand out against the center of my back to hold me up.

"What the fuck was that!" John tore his hand back through his hair, blinking away the dark spots caused by the blinding flash of light that had accompanied the sound. 

I couldn't see at all and scrubbed at my eyes, trying to coax some cooperation back into my retinas. 

This couldn't be happening. 

They weren't real.

He was dead. They both were supposed to have been dead. 

Oh gods, this was what it was like to go insane, wasn't it? To know that the reality I was perceiving was nonsensical and impossible, but not being able to make it any less real...

"Easy, easy, hey open your eyes, it helps to blink," Henrik put both hands on my shoulders to steady me and talked like I was a wounded, startled animal, keeping his voice low pitched and quiet. 

The black spots obscured most of his face, but my brain absurdly registered how lovely the light looked bouncing off his loose curls. 

"There, you go, that's it...just look at me, that's good, focus right here..." he was trying to quell the wave of hysterics that was surely coming, but for some reason it didn't. 

Nothing happened and I just blinked at him, knowing I was hollow and dead inside for good now, and there was no point in making a scene about it. 

"I...I'm just gonna...gonna go now..." I started backing towards the door, as freaked out by my own calm as everyone else was. 

"MerNeith."

Jonas and the stranger both said my name at the same time, and I had to momentarily calculate which one to answer first. 

But I suppose he wasn't really a stranger, was he?

I didn't remember moving my feet, but I found myself kneeling next to Kiya, wiping the blood off her skin with the hem of my dress, soaking it in a glass of water taken from the breakfast table like I was her mother trying to blot at a stained item of clothing. 

"MerNeith," he said again, kneeling next to me. 

I got my first really good up close look at him. It had been fifteen years since the blood and the screams. He was a man now, still young, but full grown. 

"They told me you were dead," I said flatly, now knowing for sure that it was him.

"Me too," he whispered, pulling me away from Kiya and wrapping me in his embrace, running a gentle hand over my hair and coaxing the shattering hysterical tears out of me as he rocked me back and forth. 

"Wh-wh-what ab-about Reseph?" 

The fucking stutter.

"He didn't make it."

That made me cry harder for some reason, even though I'd known he was dead for years. 

"Why didn't you fucking find me, Ahmose!! You let them take me!"

Johannes went even paler than his usual ghostly complexion, glancing down at his king with shock, "Ahmose? Wasn't that her--"

"Brother," Tim nodded, his expression somewhat similar, "kinda thought she mentioned that he was dead though..."

Jonas nodded to them both, and crossed over to where we were clutching each other on the floor, rocking back and forth like we were part of the same creature. 

"You're from the Temple?" he asked quietly, kneeling next to us and putting a hand on Ahmose's shoulder until he let me go and turned, wiping his tear-stained cheeks, "I don't know you..."

"I am, your majesty. I apologize, we were to meet on your next visit. Menes, my predecessor who you met before passed into the sun about three years ago. I am Ahmose, High Priest of the Goddess Ma'at, _ankh wedja seneb_," he inclined his head respectfully in acknowledgement of Jonas' royalty. 

The world threatened to roll off its axis. 

High Priest? 

John crowded into my space when I tried to get back to Kiya.

"No, no, let me, please, you can't carry her."

"Take her to my room," the king added, "we will get her cleaned up and into something...fresh."

"Nonsense, my king," Ahmose's eyes went gold again and his mouth curved into the loveliest smile I thought I'd ever seen on a man, "I would not see her leave this world so soon."

"Dude she's dead," Johannes piped up, receiving a hard elbow to the ribs from Henrik, "ouch what the _fuck!"_

"What is death, but simply another shade of life?" Ahmose smiled, though I got the distinct impression Johannes was conversing with the divine. 

I tried to scoot away, to put distance between myself and this...creature. This thing. Someone who I'd thought was fucking fantasy and had dismissed so many times as a faded and worn piece of mythology. 

"Stay," Jonas shifted so his knee was behind me, aborting my attempt to disappear into the background, "you have to stop running at some point, MerNeith."

"Indeed, for once you found solace in my teachings, child," (S)he smiled at me, beckoning with one hand, "come, I won't harm you."

John nodded encouragingly when I didn't move, "go on, kid, you're okay."

(S)he took my hand and placed it over Kiya's heart, making me shudder at the emptiness, the lack of activity under my palm. I tried to pull away.

"Wait, child..."

Ahmose's lips began to murmur words none of us understood and his eyes closed in concentration. 

The seconds ticked by like hours. 

But then.

My own heart nearly stopped beating from the scare when she bolted upright with a huge gasping breath, her hands scrabbling against the floor tiles, trying to gain traction or grounding, her eyes frantically searching the room.

"Shh, shh, easy my child, easy now," (S)he intoned lowly, the ghostly feathers hanging from my brother's arms like wisps of smoke, "I am well pleased by your actions this day, my daughter, and you will know my blessings when you come to me."

Kiya gasped a choked sob, nodding her head and bowing it fractionally.

"I am blessed to be in your sight, divine Lady."

Ahmose let go of her and took a deep, humming breath as he blinked and his eyes went back to normal, a slight look of surprise crossing his face as he moved a foot back from Kiya, realizing he'd been straddling her knees. 

"Oh, sorry, hi, uhm..."

"Kiya," she blinked too, "sorry, who are you? Do you live here?"

"I'm Ahmose. High Priest of Ma'at and...and Mer's brother...Mer? Mer where are you going?"

It was way too fucking much. 

One resurrection in a lifetime was a lot, but two (and a half I guessed, if I was being honest about Ahmose) in ten minutes was more than my psyche could handle. 

I was on my feet and out the door scrubbing my hands over my face and whimpering to myself. 

_Keep it together, Mer. Keep it together. Remember how Sister M said we eat an elephant._

"One bite at a t--"

"Hey, wait up!"

Oh FUCK.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. 

"Hey, what the hell? Talk to me, sweetheart, whats happening?" Tim turned me by the shoulders, obvious concern written across his features. 

My human brain took a back seat as I stared at him, everything about him suddenly seeming like a threat, like someone who wanted to hurt me, to silence me. 

_NO. Oh gods Mer, don't do it. _

I screamed, shoving him hard and sending him tumbling back several steps before he hit the ground hard. He rolled and was instantly back up on his feet, dropping low like he was expecting another attack from me. 

"Knock that shit off!" he snarled, "when are you gonna get it through your head that I'm not here to fucking hurt you, Mer!"

In a second of complete opposites, I experienced the most peculiar moment of clarity then as he looked at me from where he stood, his chest heaving as he shook the loose strands of hair out of his face and tried to slow his breath, and before my brain could give the order to stop my legs were moving towards him, covering the distance between us and not stopping until we collided, our gazes locked, our eyes burning into each other.

"That's better," he breathed.

Tim's look of surprise never came, the shocked gasp at my forward behavior didn't come, he just immediately tangled his fingers into the roots of my hair and tilted my face up so his mouth could cover mine as he turned me back towards the wall and shoved me hard against the cool stone, still panting, pressing his tongue against my lips until they opened to him and I gasped a sharp moan at the sensation and the taste of him.

I didn't know anything about him really, but I couldn't seem to escape this brutal, overwhelming, consuming need that I suddenly had for him in his entirety. 

I knew partially that it was my mind balking from reality, from the the kinks and twists and fucking insane neverland shit, hiding behind the primality of physical want. But my being suddenly needed his being in a way that made no sense to me whatsoever.

And I didn't understand it anymore than I could stop it.

He moaned lowly into my lips as he gripped my face with both hands and his tongue slid over mine again as his kiss got more aggressive, his knee pressing between my thighs, separating them as he used all his weight to crush me into the stones and I gasped for more, my hips involuntarily rolling forward, shamelessly seeking friction as my fingers tore at his tresses, pulling at the hairband that kept them all in place until they were freed and spilling down his shoulders.

"Good gods, fuck," he growled, slamming his lips back against mine and biting at them until I felt like I was going to drown in the endless waves of arousal that were overloading all my systems.

Who is he.

Where is all this coming from.

Its only been hours since we really met.

What if this is some kind of trap.

_Run!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its a mutha.fuckin. MIRACLE bitches.
> 
> Yall know what comes next. (and also know that its mostly written already and has been from the beginning because TIM)


	12. Chapter 12

I obeyed without thinking, tearing away from him and running like hell the rest of the way down the hall until I skidded to a halt in front of the double doors of the guest suite, wrenching them open and locking them behind me as I panted for breath and collapsed back against the sturdy wood, crushing my fingers against my lips, fighting the feeling of his mouth still lingering there, but savoring it too.

Everything felt somehow foggy and tinged with sharper colors at the same time and I scrubbed both hands over my face, pushing off the insanity of the last twenty-four hours and trying to keep my head on straight as I shook it back and forth hard.

"Get a fucking grip on yourself, woman!" I barked to no one but the voices in my head telling me to run back and give in.

He was a fucking stranger.

I double checked the door to make sure it was locked. 

My dress fell into a heap on the floor while I moved through the suite, followed in short order by my bra and panties as I flipped the taps on the great sunken bathtub, set into the floor amongst the hand-painted tiles, and fished in the cabinets for anything that would make bubbles. 

I had choices, as it turned out, and randomly grabbed the one from the front, dumping half of the contents into the swirling water and launching in a pastel-colored bath bomb for good measure. 

Maybe if I could fill my head with a thousand different scents, I would stop thinking about Ahmose. 

And Actaeon. 

And Kiya. 

And him. 

_Let them give me a moment's peace..._

My groan echoed back off the walls around and surrounded me as I stepped down into the steaming, swirling water, shuddering at the waves of forced relaxation it sent pulsing through my tired muscles. 

For all that this place seemed like a bout of walking sleep paralysis, its king _did _have divine taste in bath accessories. 

I was tempted to get out and find another bath bomb, but my eyes closed as I sank further into the water instead. Or rather, into the small depression that acted as a seat on the bench on my side of the bath. The bubbles overflowed and the fragrant steam drifted up around my face as I tried to breathe and calm myself down, reaching around to unravel my hair from whatever hellish mess Tim had done it up in after he took over from Henrik, and I let it splay out over the floor.

Whatever, if I needed to shower again afterwards to wash out the perfume and oils, I would. 

The silence only sent me deeper into my thoughts though, only tangled everything into a tighter knot and made me realize how few answers I really had. 

Everything I'd thought I'd known, everything I had used to build up the walls around me to heights so great no one could possibly scale them...it was all suddenly turned on its head.

The myths were real.

She was real. Ma'at. The Winged Lady of Truth.

All these years, I'd tried not to think too hard on my criticisms of the religion my mother had so fervently practiced, lest the jaded place I'd dropped into start to color her memory with doubt. I just shrugged them off as not real, because honestly, how could they let her die if they were out there?

But She was real, and had brought Kiya back. She'd spoken to her and promised immense blessings. 

But fuck me if I was setting foot into that Temple. 

Hell no.

The temple...I wondered if thats where he'd been all this time. I had gotten patched up and sent to an orphanage, and he wound up on the other side of the world, serving a divine that shouldn't have existed. 

He might as well have been dead. 

My big brother, a stranger...

The minutes ticked by one after the other in a slow procession, mocking my attempts to calm myself, refusing to let go of me for even--

"So are we gonna talk about you running away from me like you were on fire twice in one day now?"

I shrieked and bolted upright as my eyes snapped open, splashing water and bubbles across the tiled floor before I sank quickly back down into my seat and curled in on myself in a frantic attempt to cover my body.

"What the fuck!"

"Hi there," he chuckled, grinning and obviously enjoying my surprise, not moving a muscle at my startled response, remaining with his head laid back against the edge of the tub, turned towards the ceiling with his eyes shut, his arms splayed out over the sides like he was at the apex of relaxation.

I hadn't even heard him come in, as tangled in my own thoughts as I was, nor had I heard him drop his clothes and step down into the bath, settling on the opposite side from me, watching me dive deeper into the depths of my own fucked up internal monologue.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?? I locked the door!"

"And I have a key to that door, obviously. All the rest of them too, so there is literally nowhere in this castle for you to hide from me, MerNeith."

"_Stop _using my full name. And you shouldn't just take a locked door as an invitation! _And_ you fucking better have pants on."

"Who gets into a bath with pants on? Besides you have _no_ idea how hard it is to get out of that uniform when its soaked. That things gonna need to get burned now anyways," he laughed to himself, eyes still closed and purposefully not looking at me.

"You can't just get into someone else's bath naked without being invited!"

"I would just like to say that you're a guest and I happen to live here, so technically you're in _my _bath right now," he lifted his head to meet my steely glare, "and that seemed like a pretty damn good invitation just a minute ago..."

I shook my head, moving to get out, annoyed that he'd interrupted what I had intended to be a solitary time to unfuck my head, "I'm getting out, close your eyes again. And fuck you,."

He didn't, instead getting up from where he was seated on the other side of the bath, moving closer to me, never dropping eye contact once he had it until he was hovering over me, careful not to touch but laying one hand flat on the tile on either side of my head, effectively blocking me in, looking down at me. 

I felt my heart do that thing where it was beating triple time and also not working at all as my lips opened so I could get the oxygen my normal breathing suddenly wasn't providing me with and my hands floated up off my lap, wanting to touch, but I snatched them away as I realized where they were going. 

One of his eyebrows quirked fractionally as my mouth moved without making any sound, but he bent his face closer to me, feeling that same draw, that same need that seemed to come from the very core of his existence.

"Fuck, woman, who the hell are you," he whispered before pressing his lips to mine with a low moan, kissing me harder as mine immediately opened to him. 

Like it was a reflex. 

Like we'd been doing it all our lives, though we truly didn't know one another from the dwellers of the proverbial garden.

I couldn't stop the feeling like I was going to die if I didn't taste him over and over again as my hands wrapped around the back of his neck, drawing him near, wanting him closer to me.

Or was it needing?

What the hell was happening? 

I'd never felt anything like this before.

One of his hands pushed into my hair, starting at my temple and combing his fingers back over my scalp until he was holding me anchored to him, his breathing getting faster by the second as he all put tore me off the bench and up against him when he stood, his other hand wrapping low around my waist to pull me in closer so his hard cock dug into my hips.

It sent me flying, the sensation of his body pressing against mine, his arousal a physical manifestation of this insane glitch in reality we'd found ourselves thrown into headlong together, tangled up in a desperate, clawing sense of need for a perfect stranger.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, crushing my breasts against him as our kiss deepened and both of his hands moved down my body in a smooth line to grip my ass hard, pulling my hips tighter against his so I could feel all of his length as he moaned deeply into my mouth, giving me all the sounds his body forced his lips to make as we pressed closer still.

His repetition of my name disappeared into my lips as he dominated our kiss, stroking his tongue over mine, taking the time to taste every part of my mouth because he knew that I would let him, then making me chase him for more.

He spun us around, lifting me off the smooth floor with his hands under both my thighs so he could move me where he wanted me, which turned out to be straddling his lap as he took my seat and pulled me down towards him, growling into my lips as both his hands moved to my hips and his mouth started working down my neck, nipping and sucking at my skin, the sound echoing off the tiles around us like there were two of him.

I wanted to scream with the pleasure of it as his tongue swirled over me, hot and insistent, tasting and learning more about me from his senses than I'd told him out loud.

Fuck, this was really about to happen.

Oh shit. 

Oh gods. Oh gods. Oh gods.

"Please, I fucking want you so badly," he moaned into my skin.

"Oh...oh gods j-just g--...please go s-slow," I stuttered, wanting to kick myself for it as I heard the obvious panic in my own voice. 

I wanted him like I'd never wanted another human physically before, but as I had felt his hands pulling at my hips, trying to draw my body closer so he could grind his cock against me, I found myself resisting until I was able to voice my thought completely.

"Tim--T-Tim wait--"

"What don't you like me anymore? Because I have to say, most of the sex I've had in my life has been nowhere near as personal as that kiss back there in the hallway. Come closer, Mer, I already told you I wouldn't hurt you," he purred with a hint of teasing in his tone that made me crazy, "unless you want me to..."

"I'm not--I'm not really worried about you hurting me, I just...I'm not--...I haven't..." I murmured, still moaning a little at the way he was kissing and biting at my skin but also immediately flushing red and feeling just as surprised about my physiological response as he was when he felt the heat just under the surface of my skin.

He took pause for a moment as he stared at my blush and my fingers twitched against his shoulder.

"Oh...oh, shit really?" he pulled back reflexively as the understanding dawned on him.

I blinked hard and focused on the bubbles that were clinging to his skin, willing myself to get a grip, and finally shifting to get off of him and out of the tub again when I found that it wasn't going to happen.

"I'm sorry--"

"Wait, no don't go," he grabbed my hand and drew me back into his lap, where his touches got softer, like he was less hurried and frantic as his hands rubbed slowly up and down my back and down the sides of my hips, not moving anywhere too sensitive, too invasive.

"You've really never...not with anyone?" he asked quietly, and I shook my head after a beat of awkward silence on my part, looking away from him. 

I wasn't shy, and was aware that most people our age had a laundry list of both casual partners and serious ones, but I hadn't ever been bothered to not be a part of that cohort before. 

I'd found dates to be boring and uninteresting, and I knew that part of that was me. That I was terse and rough around the edges. My manners were fine, and had been beaten into my mind from the time I got out of the hospital bed, but I was horrible at masking my disdain for pleasant small talk. 

I'd been kissed before, but had found it, too, to be passionless and awkward, and from that point on, I'd assumed that men would just fuck like they fought, rough and brutish, because I'd never been proven wrong. 

But nor was my interest particularly piqued. 

And the worst part was that it didn't really bother me.

I didn't lay awake in bed at night pining for a lover or a soft touch. I just went to sleep and dreamed about that face that I hated.

"No...uhm, most men find me offputting."

"...Offputting?"

My response seemed to confuse him as he repeated the word after me with a frown.

"Yes, Tim, _offputting_," I said exasperatedly, exaggerating it one more time so we were both on the same page about it, "as in _unpleasant, hard to like, not second date material?_"

He didn't respond, only watched me start to squirm as his hands continued to travel slowly over the surface of my skin until he finally cupped my cheek and pulled me down one inch at a time for another kiss that turned into something more searing that had my insides melting as his tongue slid between my lips. 

He pulled sharp gasps and reactions from my body that I had no control over as his hands firmed their grip around my waist, his fingertips digging into my skin as I leaned in and tangled my fingers into his hair, devouring his mouth because I felt like I couldn't not.

"I do _not_ find you offputting," he said in a slightly strained, husky voice, and I snorted a laugh. 

"Yes you do, I've been frustrating the hell out of you since the second you got out of that cell upstairs."

"Wrong," he snared an arm around my waist and flipped us before I had a chance to realize that we were moving, pinning me into the seat and letting his lips hover over mine, still remaining careful and wary of where he put his hands as the bathwater sloshed over the tile floor again in another fragrant, bubbly wave.

"Driving me insane is _not _the same as putting me off," he said lowly, staring me down and sending a wave of arousal shivering through my whole body, "and in fact," he traced the line of my collarbone with the tip of one finger, "if you let me walk you through it, I'll show you how not put off I am by you..."

I pulled back at his offer to walk me through the ins and outs of what we were doing, only just resisting the urge to shove him off of me, "...I'm not ignorant about sex or anything," I said defensively, "I know perfectly well--"

He did it again, moving us without asking or giving me chance to object. Not that I would have, though, as I once again wound up straddling his lap, our centers closer together but still not touching, leaving me exposed to the warm waves of bathwater that caressed me.

"Knowing and understanding aren't the same thing, MerNeith," he interrupted, his eyes suddenly alight with excitement as he watched my pupils blow out again at the sound of him saying my name. 

"You like that, dont you? When I say your name? You just let people assume its Meredith and don't correct them...but I think its a name worth saying, worth getting right...MerNeith," he moaned the words lowly into my throat, sucking at my skin with enough pressure to make me buckle, but I was still stuck on his last comment.

We stared at each other when he pulled away, waiting for someone to say something.

"I'm aware of that they're not the same," I finally said, gritting my teeth against the 'you fucking idiot' that I desperately wanted to tack on to the end.

He cocked his head teasingly to the side as he stared still, running the tips of his fingers down my arm until he found my hand, still knotted into his luxurious hair, and he moved it with his own, guiding its travel until my fingertips were brushing across his face, over one side of his mustache, down to his lips, "are you sure?"

His mouth opened just a little as he pressed a gentle, echoing kiss to the pad of my index finger, still holding my hand with his and watching me watch him, stupid turned on, but fascinated at the control he had over me from such a small caress.

The tip of my finger disappeared between his lips and he danced his tongue over it, chuckling darkly at the breathy moan that left me as I felt the warmth of his mouth and his teeth worried lightly back and forth over my first knuckle.

He continued with the slow torture, sucking my finger, moving his tongue against it and letting me feel the vibrations of each low growl as he watched me bloom until my other hand gripped into his hair and I tore my finger from his lips so he could do whatever he'd just been doing to it to my tongue instead.

"Mmm," he growled with satisfaction as I pushed my tongue between his lips and he kissed me passionately, "see? Two very different beasts..."

"Uh-huh," I responded, though I'd stopped listening for the most part, desperate for more - for more heat, more friction, more of the way he tasted. 

I fought myself to not crush my hips into his. It seemed like no matter my level of desperation for more, my fucking pride wouldn't take a back seat.

I wouldn't be the first one to touch him. Not when he'd been the one who had started all this in the first place. 

That was a half-truth at best, but I refused to think any further on it. 

His hands remained slow, working over my hips, up and down the lengths of my thighs, and I found myself wondering if he was good with horses. It felt so much like he was treating me as a wild animal to be calmed, and I instantly believed it had to be true. But still he didn't push me or coax any further steps from us as he took my hands and pressed them both to his chest, wordlessly asking me to learn him the same way. 

My fingertips traveled over the expanse of his skin slowly, exploring the feel of him under my hands as he sighed soft sounds and encouragements. 

"That feels good," his eyes closed and his teeth sank into his lower lip as his cock jumped between us.

It had been so long since anyone had just taken the time to touch him, to learn him. 

I touched a line that crossed one half of his chest. It was clean and no hair grew over the faint white seam. 

"Surgical scar," he murmured, daring to let his hands roam over the curve of my ass, his mind running again with a million different thoughts. 

"And this one?" my finger traced a triangular scar just at the back corner of his jaw.

"Knife."

"Whose knife?"

"Someone who wasn't very happy with me at the time," he chuckled.

The more I looked him over, the more I realized that his skin was peppered with faint scars of varying sizes and ages. 

"Do you fight a lot?"

He shook his head silently, opening his lips to breathe against my fingers when they traced his mouth.

"I used to settle a lot more problems than I should have with my fists, but not so much anymore."

Tim's hands started mimicking the motion of mine as I touched his face gently, tracing the silver ring in his nose, smoothing over one eyebrow, dropping water down his forehead as I used the tip of my finger to brush his hair back. 

"Ohh, thats so nice," he leaned in to kiss me, something softer and less frenzied than we'd had before, and his fingers danced over my face, tracing the shell of my ear, exploring each piercing and ring as mine toyed with the circular gauges in his.

"Did these hurt?" I asked, drifting away on a soft, pillowy cloud of gentle affection.

"Not too badly...I'll stop stretching them one of these days, but I like them for now."

Each passing second saw that burning low in my gut start to instensify, each shuddered breath against my skin pushed me farther towards that relentless, clawing sense of need. 

But along with that came the reminder that I was in way over my head. 

Fuck.

"You're thinking too much," he said softly, "I can see your mind working up there--"

"You can't _see _someone's mind working, moron."

_Smooth, Mer._

"I can though," he snarled as he sat up quickly, his mood changing to match mine as his arm locked around my waist and anchored me to him, "because despite what you may think, you're not mysterious. You're not enigmatic or difficult to unpack. You're fucked up, just like the rest of us, Mer...so just fucking embrace it. Be here. Be human and fucked up. Its not gonna make me run away from you."

"You don't even know my brand of fucked up," I kissed him savagely, passionately, with anger and want and frustration all bleeding together into one potent senation as my tongue pressed against the length of his.

But he forced me to slow down, meeting me at a less frantic pace.

He continued to kiss me like that, calming me little by little, knowing that the impossible need in the moment could lead to something less than memorable for me.

"Maybe not...but maybe I want to..."

"Tim why am I doing this, I don't even know you," I whispered, even as I just gave in and finally dropped further into his lap, pressing myself against him and tearing pleasured groans from us both as he could feel my readiness for him and I could feel his hardness under me.

"Just stay like that, just feel me against you for a second," he encouraged, laughing a huffed breath. He wasn't being patronizing or belittling, but honestly praising as we got further acquainted with each other, "and you're doing this because you wanted me the second we met, just like I did."

"The second I met you I wanted to smash a rock against your face."

He gave me an exasperated look even as his hips rolled against me harder, "that wasn't me and you know it, don't be an ass."

I giggled despite myself, bringing a broad grin to his face as his hands gripped my hips and his thumbs dropped down a little closer to my core as he pulled me down for another kiss. 

"Your lips taste good," he murmured, tracing the bottom one with his tongue and humming as my fingers explored his hair, still obsessed with the sensation of such close physical contact.

"Can I try something?" he asked softly after several moments, still keeping us slow, not wanting to add too much stimulation at once that would make me tuck tail and bolt again. 

I chewed at my lip but nodded my head, unsure why I was feeling so damn apprehensive. 

I'd literally just stared death in the face unflinchingly.

But gods he made me nervous.

"Come closer...thats it..." he whispered, lifting me up slightly so that my breasts were exposed to the comparatively chilly air, and just the tip of his cock was teasing me, rubbing repeatedly against my clit as he rolled his hips slowly, each move calculated.

"Hold still," he bent his face to lightly touch the tip of his tongue to one of my nipples before slowly roving over the surface of it, and I could feel his body vibrating with a silent laugh as I very clearly did not stay still. 

"Does that feel good?"

"Gods yes," I gasped, pushing my fingers harder against his skull, "oh, more..."

"I need you to tell me you want this," he groaned, pushing his own self control to the limits as I writhed under his touch and his tongue when he switched to my other breast, licking and sucking at my nipple harder. 

"I do...gods Tim I shouldn't want you, but I fucking do..."

He shifted just enough, moving us slowly so each time my hips rocked against him, the head of his cock teased at my entrance.

"Kiss me," I gasped at the same time that his fingers threaded down into the roots of my hair, his tongue sliding into my mouth, filling my senses with his taste as his arm pulled harder around my hips, controlling my movement until he was stretching my entrance with his cock, then pulling back.

"That feels so fucking good," he moaned, doing over and over again, "oh please tell me if I --_fuck_\-- if I hurt you."

My head dropped back and I shifted in his lap without thinking so that his next pass made him really start pushing into me, trying to fulfill a need I couldn't vocalize, giving the impulses of my body power over the constant workings of my brain.

"Good christ, fuck _FUCK,_" he groaned, letting me take control, to figure out our pace as the last vestiges of his consciousness understood that I needed to be the one to do this.

I felt torn apart, my pussy stretching like I always knew it was supposed to, but I hadn't anticipated the pain that intertwined itself with the pleasure. 

"Fuck," I gasped, "I can't...I can't...."

"Shh shh, easy," he dropped back into that low voice, coaxing me like a beast, "just hold still for a second...thats it..."

Tim kissed me slowly, gently, even as he trembled with the strain of holding back, brushing his lips against mine until I pressed for more, clenching around the part of him that was inside me. 

He wanted to tell me that I had no idea how much self control it was taking not to just shove inside me and bottom out, but he just held me where I was, giving me the chance to realize I wanted more before my overthinking brain made me pull away and leave for good.

He rolled his hips gently, shifting his cock inside me fractionally, trying to get me used to the feel of him.

"Doesn't that feel good," he whispered, "don't I feel good inside you..."

I whined, grabbing him harder, filled with fear that I would hurt too much to enjoy it and be forever dying of embarassment.

"Let me help you," he breathed, urging me to trust him in his experience, "thats it...just like that..."

Tim encouraged me with moderate dirty talk, whispering as he kissed all over my skin for few seconds how tight I was, how I was gripping him and he'd send me to the other end of the universe if I let him.

"Fuck," I moaned, dropping down a little further but feeling split open, stretched to my limits, more than I thought I would be able to as the panic started to surface, "fuck I can't do this."

"Yes you can," he encouraged quietly, planting a soft kiss to the base of my throat and waiting for me to try and breathe, "but if you don't want to, we can stop..."

"I don't want to stop!" I was frustrated and it was making me angry again, forcing my most primal instincts and my brain to war with each other over my next move.

"Don't do that thing that you're about to do," he warned when he saw me wondering if I could just grit my teeth and take all of him to get the painful part over with, "because it'll hurt like hell for you."

I squeezed my eyes closed, sinking my fingers harder into his shoulders, my body refusing to relax simply because I was so tense everywhere else. 

"Open your hips more," he guided me, wrapping both hands around my ass and pulling my pelvis forward slightly, making me adjust my legs to compensate so I wouldn't fall over against him.

We shivered hard against each other as his hands locked back around my waist, tracking my movement as I slowly took him further, dropping my head back and crying out against the empty marble bathroom as his tongue laved over my nipples and he growled at the feeling of them tightening between his lips again, both of us snarling variations of the same obscenities.

It was so much. Everything felt like the extreme end of the spectrum. Each brush of his lips sent fire through my veins, every caress of his hands seemed to burn like dry ice.

"Oh, gods, you feel good," he moaned, breathing hotly against the skin of my throat as his eyes closed with the overwhelming pleasure.

"Oh gods, Tim please," I stuttered, rocking my hips against him, still feeling stretched but in a way now that sent lightning up my spine, unsure what I was begging for, but knowing somehow that he'd get it. 

Tim fisted a hand into my hair, reaching between us to grip my hip, positioning it so that his thumb was rubbing over my clit in rapid little circles as he cried out, feeling me clench impossibly tight around him.

"Holy fuck, oh gods do that again."

"Don't know how," I gasped, instinctively pushing my hips forward, seeking more pressure against my clit as his hips tilted to push the tip of his cock hard against my frontal wall.

He held me there, toying with the sensitive nerve endings just to feel me clenching around him repeatedly, no longer concerned that he needed to instruct, as I'd clearly given over to the impulses of my body.

"You feel amazing," he whispered, holding my hips tightly, "move with me..."

Tim's hands worked my hips, releasing the pressure on my clit for a moment as he moved me slowly on and off his cock, letting me continue to adjust until the movement of our bodies against each other felt like nothing less than euphoria.

And then there was that one second. 

Something that was really a split second of me standing on the precipice before crossing my arms over my chest and willingly diving over the edge.

That feeling that I hadn't known since I was a child. 

Trust. Lack of doubt. 

I could taste surrender, the willing abrogation of responsibility and need for control. 

"Oh, gods, just fuck me," I moaned, going more lax against him until he had to shift to accomodate both of us, my hands against the edge of the tub the only thing keeping me upright in his lap. 

He squeezed my ass hard, moving me more firmly on and off his cock, snarling his sounds of pleasure each time I cried out and clenched around him.

I used the leverage of my knees pinned against the wall of the bathtub to push my hips harder against him, uncaring that we were sending waves of water everywhere as I obsessively rolled them against him, meeting every subtle shift that he made. 

"Are you fucking kidding me that you've never done this before?" he gasped, shouting as I clenched particularly hard around him and letting his fingers dive back down to assault my clit. 

"Will you shut the fuck up already," I kissed him hard, biting his bottom lip and making him snarl with a combination of pain and searing pleasure that made his cock kick again inside me. 

"I'm gonna let that go this time," he kissed me back with equal passion, "because you're rude and brash but I _really _fucking like it right now."

There was this sensation in the depths of my pelvis, like the winding of a screw. It got tighter with each savage thrust of his cock into me, each profane thought that left his lips on a growl. 

"Oh fuck," I gasped, equally needing more and needing relief, but I didn't know what relief even looked like anymore because I couldn't fathom asking him to stop the assault of his hips against mine. He felt it too, watching me with sharp eyes, committing every detail to memory. 

"Thats right, you fucking love the way my cock fills you," he snarled, "don't stop, come for me...oh, gods fucking come for me, MerNeith."

The way he said my name made me shatter, and my voice gave out as I slammed my hips down onto him once more, and he locked both arms around the back of my waist, holding me flush against him as he rolled his hips, crying out against my skin as my walls clamped down around him over and over again, forcing him to meet his climax too as his shout echoed off the bathroom walls.

The world turned in a funny way around me as I held on around his shoulders for dear life and he moved us in perfect ways to extend my orgasm until I quieted down, shifting and shivering against him.

"Thats it, ride it out," he coaxed softly into my skin, dropping slow, sensual kisses all over the skin he could reach, letting me rock my hips into him still as my mind caught up to my body. 

I came to as his lips pressed a shuddering kiss to my temple, and his hands started caressing my skin rather than gripping it.

"Hey," he said softly, nudging my face up after several moments of silence, "you okay?"

If I was being honest, it was a heady combination of yes and no, but I found myself clinging to him instead of saying anything, wrapping my arms tighter around his shoulders and refusing to let go.

"Shh shh, its okay...you're okay," he hugged me closer, wrapping me in his embrace as he slid off the seat and turned us in little circles in the middle of the bath, keeping us submerged up to our shoulders.

I was surprised to find that my tears started to fall, but I couldn't stop them and just clutched him tighter as he hummed an endless song to me as I released all my pent up emotions, gently cupping the back of my head and giving me all the time I needed. 

"Easy, sweetheart," he soothed after several minutes of slow movement, "wrap your legs around me...thats it..." he stood and carried me out of the bath and into the bedroom, ignoring that we were soaked as he laid me on the bed and crawled up next to me, pulling me back against his body and wrapping me in his embrace. 

"You're okay, just let go..." 

My sniffles turned into gut-wrenching sobs that I was powerless to control as everything hit me at once.

"H-he was dead," he wailed, "he was supposed to be dead..."

Tim grimaced as he suddenly had no idea which man I was talking about - Actaeon or my brother, but he cuddled me closer all the same, feeling a surprising fondness for me now in the wake of such a powerful encounter. 

I was asleep in a matter of minutes, falling into a sated, dreamless slumber that he watched for several moments with a little smile, wondering as much as I had how the hell we'd managed to survive. 

His lips touched my forehead one more time before he untangled my arms and legs gently from his body, pulling a blanket up over me and sitting at the edge of the bed to watch me for a bit longer.

The physical need was sated, but he still stayed close, marveling as he realized that it was really only because I might wake up and need him...and as soon as the acceptance of that feeling settled on him, he crawled back up next to me and tucked under the blanket, pulling my exhausted sleeping form into his arms and surrendering to the understanding that maybe he just needed me too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gigantic shrug.


End file.
